The Literary echo, and Pawcatuck advertiser. [volume] (Westerly, R.I.) 1851-1854, 1852-01-15
Gclcltc0.
From the National Erai
BE TIE N II.
by MARY IRVING.
CHAPTER I.

" Any letter to-day;"
mo 20
What worlI of heart-breaking that
one woe word will have to answer for
Like the small, light arrow Of olden war
fare, it pierc,s where 'hcavier weapon
would reb ,und, dividing the cuirass Of the
soul. 1t is the first word that falls like
cold hail-stonc on the babe's spirit, fresh
from the bowers of innocence, curling its
lip, and convulsing its tremulous, tiny
hand, checked in the eager grasping at
" mammals" collar or watch. 1t Is the
spell that wakes all the wilfulness of the
older child. arrived at the age of unreason-
abl ness, when thwarted in his darling
plan of an afternoons "gunning." And
farther still on the way Of life. where we
learn to calm the surface-swellings of the
SOULS troubled waters, ho = often that word
" No!" sinks into their depths like f,ry
meteor, to dry up the sweet fountain Of
love and life, or turn it all into bitterness
1t is the lesson of lifetime to understand
that word-to read the veto of omnipotent
love in the most naughty or careless pro-
hlbition or d .nial Of fellow mnrtal-to
=" be PATIENT" wait, and trust for the
watchword of heaven will not be /" No :"
1t is harsh enoug when sweetened with
the honey-dew of tend ,rness, it drops re
luctantly from loving lips-harsher when
it is hurled from the mouth of authority
like hot shot from cold cannon's mouth
But is it not most harsh, most frigid, whcr
it drops from the Ups of indifference, fall
Ing upon the grave Of hearts hope :
How often is the whole of hearts
hope bound up in the little query with
which we commenced! Ii such heart
can resist the force of the cold, short
business like "No ~ that falls from the
lips of the unsympathizing post-boy, it may
bid defiance to all the remaining mseries
of this world. Pandora has no poison foI
it.
L have seen strong man turn away
from the post Office counter with thunder
bolt in his brow that seemel ready to
blight The fair face Of nature in its bursting
[ have seen school-boy in n strange land
swallowing the sob be was ashamed to own,
while his less meek play fellow turned on
his heel with a muttered oath. / have
seen Il mother come forth with Il haggard
face, written all over by anxiety and sus-
pense that she was too much distracted to
hide from the gaz, Of the stragglers {" loaf
ing" about the door benches. have seen
home-sick little girl-and larger one,
too-burst into tears Of uncomfortable
disappointment, and all at the same curt,
cruel" 7" Mo-" l have heard more than
this, and | will tell it to you.
Below the mountain ranges Of Vermont
and New Hampshire lies tract of hill
country, rather picturesque than grand.
Though splinkled with rocks, and scanned
with granite ledges, it is green and flour
ishing enough to be beautiful at least in
the eyes of New Englander. AS | rode
through one ofits grass grown gorg"s, upon
a summers evening, a friend pointed out
to me huge, square, antique-looking
house, with six gables, (if l rightly re-
member which sat like an alien, far from
neig ghbo,s, on slight rise at our left. 1t
was an old country-house, built, probably
before the Revolution-such on as is a
rare sight among those hills, which were
first settled by men too poor and too busy
to aspire to more than a simple remove
from the primitive "wigwam" of their
aboriginal predecessors. The old house
was nearly buried in little wilderness Of
its own and as we rode lcisurely past it,
its front frowned out darkly from the
shadows Of cypress like pines and blooming
llacs, that we're huddled in strange con-
fusion around it. Asa relic of the I" mid
die ages" of our States, it had its Interest,
to me; but that interest was trebled by q