Washington telegraph., 1852-12-29
From the Mus,cal World.
Fanny FERNS Column.
'Twelve O'Clock at night and all's we'll"

Twelve O'Clock at night and all S We'll"
False prophet Still and like, at
wonder window, stands the wife The clock
has told the small hours; yet her face is
prest closely against the window pane, stri-
wing in vain, with straining eye, to pierce
the darkness. She sees nothing; she hears
nothing-but the beating of her own heart
Now she takes her seat; opens Bible, and
seeks from it what comfort she may, while
tears blister the pages Then she clasps
her hands and her lips are tremulous with
mute application Hist there is an un-
steady voice in the hall /; she kmoacs 1t -
Many time, and oft, it has trod on her very
heartstrings. She glides down gently to
meet the wanderer He falls heavily against
her: and, in maudlin tones, pronounces
name he had long since forgotten "to honor"
Oh all enduring power of woman's love !.
no reproach, no upbraiding-the, light
arm passed around that reeling figure once
erect in Goods own image" With tender
words of entreaty. which he is powerless to
resist if he would, she leads him in 1t is
but repetition of thousand such vigils !
It is the performance of VOW, with hero
ism and patient endurance too common,
and everyday to be chronicled on earth; too
holy and heavenly to pass unnoticed by the
registering angel above!
.AlFs ,reU!'
False prophet,-;n yonder luxurious room
sits one whose curse i was. to be fair as
dream of Eden Time was, when those
clear eyes looked lovingly into mothers
face-when a gray-haired father laid his
trembling hand, with blessing, on that
sunny head when brothers and sisters
voices blended with her own, in heart-music
around the happy hearth. Oh! achere are
hey a,oac!? Are there none to say to the
repenting Magdalen- Neither 90 I con-
denim thee-go, and sin no more :" Must
the gilded fetter continue to bind the soul
that loathes it, because man is less merciful
than God,
"Alrs uelL!'
False prophet There lies the dead or
phan. In all the length and breadth of the
green earth there was found no sheltering
nest where that lonely dove could fold its
wings, when the parent birds had flown
The broOding wing was gone, that covered
it from the cold winds of neglect and un-
kindness. Love was its life ; and so-it
dropped!
"Alls ,rcHl'
False prophet Sin walks the earth in
purple and fine linen honest poverty, with
tear-bedewed face, hungers and shivers, and
thirsts, while the publican stands afar off,"
The widow pleads in vain to the ermined
judge for Justice; and, unpunished Of
Hearem. the human tiger crouches in his
lair. and springs upon his helpless prey.
"Alls ueu!'
All yes. all IS well, for He who "seeth the
end from the beginning" holds erenly the
scale of justice. "Dires" shall get beg of
Lazarus" Every human tear is counted
They shall yet sparkle as gems in the crown
of the patient, and enduring disciple =
When the clear, broad light Of eternity
shines upon life's crooked paths, we shall
see the snares and pitfalls from which our
hedge OF thorns has fenced us in and, in
the maturity of our full grown faith, we
shall eruItingly say-"Father not as I
will, but as Thou wiltt'
FANNY FERN.