New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1853-03-18
QUE NEW ORGAN IN c HURCH.

1z11RrHTI
coast The neighboring country is not pic
turesque, being remarkable chiefly as coal
district III is true, there are hills in the dis
tsAace ~ they are so distant they look almost
il run studs on the horizon. Immediately round
tis1 5riage, it is quite fiat, with the exception OF
the little eminences which generally lead up to
the mouths of the coal pits. There is no luxu-
RANT vegetation to compensate for the want Of
variety of surface, no shady foliage, no 1ertiie
fields, no green meadows, nothing but bleak,
sandy Neutrality-suspicious. bare, sometimes
turfy, sometimes, as they approach the sea-
scantily covered with the still, rushy beach
grass while mounds of ashes by day, and red
flames by night, mark the coal pits, and form
the distinguishing feature of the country. But
this bleak district has q beauty of its own in
it's coast scenery. From these moors, bold,
rocky, rugged cliffs descend, sometimes abrupt
ly into the sea, sometimes on o hard, fiat, yell
lowish beach, on which the waves of the Ger
man Ocean roll in for miles and miles Not
above quarter of a mile from the shore stands
the village, which is struggling and dirty-the
houses built Of stone, and rooted with red tiles.
The villagers and their families are chiefly col
lers At one end Of the village there is small
new church without a chancel--too much in
appearance like town church to be interest
ing-surrounded by new made grave yard,
grassy, and neatly kept, but with none of those
Wondering monuments, and solemn, shadowing
yews which bestow deep though mournful in
terest.
AT the time of which am speaking, the aris-
tocracy of the village consisted of Mr. Selby, IA
worthy solicitor, who practiced in the neighbor-
hood, and family; Mr.. Moore, lessee of the coal
pits, and his daughter; the surgeon and his
wife; and the clergyman and his sister; besides
my sister and myself-two middle aged spin
sters, in easy though not wealthy circumstances.
The Moores and the Selbys had not. been on
speaking terms for many years-the origin Of
the quarrel had been some trifling difference
between Mr.. Moore and Mr.. Selby about pa
IRISH road By degrees, the breach was widened
till it had become almost irreparable. Now, at
the distance Of ten years, there was apparently
much less prospect of reconciliation than when
the evil was new. Yet neither Mr.. Moore nor
Mr. Selby was q bad man. The former was
warm-hearted and warm tempered, equally We
hement in his likings and dislikings ready to
forgive when forgiveness was asked, but deter
mined not to be the first to sue for pardon. Mr.
Selby was man of colder temperament, more
lust, but not so generous. He was high princi-
pled and his reputation as a lawyer was honora-
bic in the extreme. He had been chiefly in
.censed at Mr.. Moore, because the latter had, in
the heat of passion, said something which seem
ed to reflect upon his veracity and good faith in
some way or other, and he insisted on his ma
king an apology, to which Mr.. Moore had re-
piled " That he had never in his life said any,
thing which required apology, and that,
therefore, he did not intend ever to make one,
and he was not going to be domineered over by
Mr.. Selby." Mr.. Selby :" would not suffer him
self to be insulted with impunity" And thus
for the present the affair ended The quarrel
had made them both unhappy, but neither of
them would pronounce the few words, which
might have terminated it.
1t may be imagined that this rupture did not
tend to increase the cheerfulness of our little
society at Westwerwck There was always
rrautipu OF Htt1a ait har he
genial mirthfulness Of Mr. Moore, or the clear,
good sense of Mr.. Selby, for they could not be
invited together. The surgeon and his wife, and
the clergyman and his sister, deplored with my
sister and myself the estrangement which had
taken place between our village magnates; and
many time, to use homely phrase, we laid
our heads together to devise plan for recon-
Citation; but always in vain As the young
people Of the two families grew up, it seemed
even sadder. More especially, l pitied poor
Ellen Moore. There was a large family of the
Selbys, and they made merry circle of young
men and women among themselves; but Ellen
was quite solitary, as she had no mother, and
during all the day her father was engaged with
his business. Often she would come down with
her work, and spend the morning with my sister
and myself; or, when the health of the former
would permit me to leave her-for my sister wa!
q great invalid occasionally passed an hour
with Ellen at Sea-view House, which was only
Sea-view House was very charming resi-
dence Ii was situated at the top of higl
cliff III at some distance from the edge, the
SIZZLING filed with a smooth, green lawn
.fuiiIwh;ch a zig-zag path, cut in the rock, lee
TO the smooth sands beneath. The house itsel
was large, cheerful, and luxuriously furnished
and commanded from almost every window o
view of the rock bound coast with its innumer
able creeks and headlands, washed by the Him
liable sea, which spread round and round, and
away and away to the far horizon. AT the end
of the house furthest from the sea, were the gar
den and green house; and behind an orchard
As have said, | had often suspected Ellen wa'
dull but she never complained. At last, one
day, when she and were sitting at work to
gether in an upper chamber, from which, be
sides the sea-view, there was glimpse Of the
public road, along which, just then, party o
the young Selbys on horseback were passing
Laughing and talking, she sighed gently As
looked at her she colored, and then said, witt
some hesitation 8" know it is wrong, dear Mis-
Madeline, with SO much to make me happy; blu
do feel dull sometimes"
s.lNothing more natural, my love- replied
She continued: 81 cannot help thinking how
used to enjoy going to the Hall to play will
the selbys, and what friends Kitty and Juli'
and Robert used to be. When l was at schoo
l did not think often of those days, but now
seem to be thinking of them always-I feel $,
lonely sometimes. II is so different with the
Selbys. daYe say they never think of me, Mis-
Madeline
Indeed, Ellen, you wrong them. Kitty ant
Julia often speak of you; and Robert, who,
dare say, you know has returned from New
castle, and become his fathers partner, was ask
ing me very kindly about his old playmate only
yesterday. And even Mr.. Selby himself re
marked one day, what sweet, lady-like cir
Ellen Moore was, and that you always used t.
be a pet of his" As l spoke, Ellen's face, which
before had been somewhat pensive, broke int,
smiles.
Ellen was q pretty girl with slight, flexible
figure, gentle, sensitive expression, and mass,
braids of glossy black hair. Although sht
looked pleased, she did not, however, continue tn
subject, and said, after some minutes silence
81 have been wishing for long time we hat
n new organ and choir in the church; thes
scraping iadles, and that poor old John Morris
screeching, are dreadful -
sit would be indeed delightful" l answered.
for my ears had suffered martyrdom for SOM
years from causes to which Ellen had alluded
g but fear there is little hope for u.s. An organ
would be beyond our means, and who would
play it, if We had one J"
siWhy, you and l, dear Miss Madeline an,
perhaps Kitty Selby; she used to play NIGEL,
on the piano And as to the cost, 7 was speak
IS ing to papa about it the other night, and he anc