New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1852-02-11
A BROKEN HOME.
BY TX. MARVEL.

A BROKEN HOME.
a-5 BY TX. ,sIARyEL. ~. 5-,r- 4
1t is Nelly's own fair hand, yet sadly blotted ;
blotted with her tears and blotted with yours.
--s. 1t is all over, DEAR dear Clarence!
Oh, how wish you were here to mourn with us!
can hardly now believe that our poor mother
is indeed dead. TS IN
Dead! It is terrible word! You repeat it
with fresh burst Of grief The letter is
crumpled in your hand. Untold it again, sob,
bing, and read on. s I'm e5za
"For week she had been failing every day
but on Saturday we thought her much better,
told her felt sure she would live to see you
again.
I"' shall never SOC him again, Nelly said
she, bursting into tesrs."
All Clarence, where is your youthful pride
and strength now, with only that frail paper to
annoy you, crushed in your grasp
g She sent for father, and taking his hand in
hers, told him she was dying. l am glad you
did not see his grief. was kneeling beside her,
and she put her hand upon my head and let it
rest there for a moment, while her lips moved,
as if she were praying. 9 5lg 4
Sc Kiss me, Nelly said she, growing fainter
kiss me again for Clarence.
g A little while after, she died.
For long time you remain with only that
ASetSl youI Thoughts 1Of company. OF
pace up and down your chamber; again yor
seat yourself, and lean your head upon tn,
table, enfeebled by the very grief that you cher
lsh still. The whole day passes thus you ex
cuse yourself from all companionship you have
not the heart to tell the story of your troubles
to Dalton, least of all to Miss Dalton. How is
this Is sorrow too selfish or too holy9
Toward night-fall there is calmer and
stronger feeling. The voice of the present world
comes to your ear again. But you move away
from it unobserved to that stronger voice of God
in the Cataract. Great masses Of angry cloud
hang over the West; but beneath them the red
harvest sun shines over the long reach of Cana
dian shore, and bathes the whirling rapids in
splendor. You stroll alone over the quaking
bridge, and under the giant trees of the Island,
to the edge of the British Fall You 90 out to
the little shattered tower, and gaze down with
sensations that will last till death, upon the
deep emerald of those awful masses Of water.
Itis not the place for a bad man to ponder; it
is not the atmosphere for foul thoughts or weak
ones. A man is never better than when he has
the humblest sense Of himself; he is never SO un-
like the spirit of evil, as when his pride is utterly
vanished. You lnger looking upon the stream
of fading sunlight that plays across the rapids,
and down into the shadows of the depths below,
Lit up with their clouds of spray yet farther
down, your sight swims upon the black eddying
masses, with white ribands streaming across
their CLASSY surface; and your dizzy eye fastens
upon the frail cookie shells-their stout oarsmen
dwindled to pigmies-that dance like atoms
upon the vast chasm--or like your own weak
resolves upon the whirl Of Time.
Your thought, growing broad in the view, seems
to cover the whole area of life; you set up your
affections and your duties; you build hopes with
fairy scenery, and away they all go, tossing like
to,c foil Il
hideous welcome! You sigh at your weakness
of heart, or of endeayor, and your sighs float
out into the breeze that rises ever from the shock
OF the waves, and whirl, empty -handed, to
Heaven, You ayow high purposes, and clench
them with round utterance; and your voice like
asparrow's, is caught up in the roar of the fall,
and thrown at you from the cliffs, and dies away
in the solemn thunders of nature. Great
thoughts Of life come over you-of its work and
destiny-of its affections and duties, and roll
down swift-like the river--into the deep whirl
of doubt and danger. Other thoughts grander
and stronger, like the continuing rush of Rters,
come over you, and knit your purposes together
with their weight, and crush you to exultant
tears, and then leap, shattered and broken,
from the very edge Of your intent-into mists
of fear!
The moon comes out, and cleaning through
the clouds, braids its light fantastic bow upon
the waters. You feel calmer as the night deep
ems The darkness softens you; it hangs-Eke
the pail that shrouds your mothers corpse
low and heavily to your heart. 1t helps your
inward grief, with some outward show. 1t
makes the earth mourner; it makes the flash
ing water-drops so many attendant mourners
1t makes the Great Fall itself mourner, and
its roar-a requiem! .e5
The pleasure of travel is cut short. To one
person of the little company of fellow-yoyage
you bid adieu with regret pride, love, and hopt
point toward her, while all the gentler affection!
stray back to the broken home. Her smiles o
parting is very gracious, but it is not after all
such smile as your warm heart pines for
Ten days after, you are walking toward til,
old homestead, with such feelings as it never
called up before. In the days of boyhood, ther,
were triumphant thoughts of the gladness ant
the pride, with which, when grown to the statur,
of manhood, you would come back to tkat littl,
town of your birth. As youhave bent with youl
dreamy resolutions over the tasks of the cloisteI
life, swift thoughts have hocked on you of tht
proud step, and prouder heart, with which yo,
would one day greet the old acquaintances O
boyhood; and you have RECALLED yourself on tht
.jaunty manner with which you would meet ole
DR.. Bidlow; and the patronizing air, with which
you would address the pretty, blue-eyed Madge
1t is late in the afternoon when you come In
sight of the tall sycamores that shade your home
you shudder now lest you may meet any whom
you once knew. The first, keen grief of youth
seeks little of the sympathy of companions: il
lies-with sensitive man-bounded within the
narrowest circles of the heart They only wht
holds the key to its innermost recesses can speal
consolation Years will make n change; as7th'
summer grows in fierce heats, the balminess o