The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1853-02-12
WHOLE No COZ

- 's" udlH more, anu we learned
from the mother of the false Edward,
that he had wandered farther away from
his bovhood's home, and that no remem.
brance of Flora was brpath+d forth in
his letters. Strange that the relentless
hand OF time should shut the door of
Memorv upon one so lovely, and hush
the yre of Love.
The dark, wintry days passed away
and the golden sunshine gushed from the
azure skies, and the bursting buds of
SprIns-time pushed open the dewv lids
OF their emerald cases with their dainty
leaf-hngrrs, ard all about the white cot
tage, 1t was bright and blooming again.
| sat again with dear Flora in the
vine-shad-d porch, when the eve of dav
had turned from the world, and we cast
over the blue rim ofthe west a lingering
look at its departed monarch. The thin,
white face was lifted up to the large dia.
mond gem, and my childish heart wept
over the sad change wrought in the love-
ly girl since that glad eve.
A thick cloud-mist swan up from the
edge of red and purple pile in thu west,
and floated slowly on towards the bril-
liant orb, till its struggling eye lay bur-
led in its dark bosom. The sweet girl
turned her languid eyes to mine and
with strange smile, said
Edith, tits like my hopc,!"
May came with its soft breath and
mild whispers. The old naples nodded
their dark heads in its bsImy breath, and
the slender vine that wound its green
arms about the low easement, showerpd
down handluls of shattered rose leaves
on the shaded sill
But she was dead! The white sbroud
lay smoothly upon her glrist bosom
over the pure. folded hands, and the
long black curl. were swept loosely
back from the marble brow. laid NV
little head down close to the icy cheek,
and wept such tears as childhood sheds
over those it loves!
They bore her from her cottage home
to the silent yard of the little chapel, TO
the slow tolling of the village church
bell; the damp earth opened its dark
breast, and hid her from our aching
hearts
Daily went TO the lonely yard to
scatter the flowers she loved over her
slender grave; and one pale twilight as
fingered there, form rushed wildly
through the gateway, and Edward Earl,
pale and haggard, knelt beside me.
| hated the murderer of our beautiful
Flora, and noiseIesslv stole from lis side;
but cold hand caught mine and drew
me back again; and there, beside her
new-made mound, in the hush Of eve
ming, with the long fringe of the droop-
ing willow moaning over head, he told
me, because | loved the lost one well,
the dark tale of the past-how Frederic
Grayson had woven snare for his un-
wary feet, thinking to make dear Flora
his bride, till hope expired with her tad
ing form. and he made confession fhis
base deception, hoping to atone for the
past. But it came too late, for the weary
victim was softly sleeping in the shad-
owy tomb, ere her lover awoke to the
blighting consciousness oftrust betrayed!
And then | told him Of the loving
girl-how she slowly faded, and droop-
ed, and died;-and the large tear-drops
fell from his dark eyes, and sank into
the mould rounded over her Young form.
He was the fond, faithful Edward as
of old; and | crept closely up, as in
other days, and laid my childish brow
upon his manly, entwining arm, and
sobbed in sympathy.
The long, silky ringlet, cut from amid
her rich tresses as she lay sleeping in
her white shroud, with life-like smile
resting upon her pale lip, | drew from
my bosom, and let its dark rings fall one
by one into his tremulous hand. 1t was
all that was left to him of his beautiful
BRIDE betrothed.. He laid his burning
brow upon the last relic OF departed,
JOYOUS years; then rose slowly and calm
". and knew from the glance of the
wild, deep eye, that it was a crushed
and broken spirit, turning from the ear
ly grave OF the MAID OF MYRTLE VALE!
rDr. Howe has examined almost
the entire number Of cases Of idiocv
known in Massachusetts, and the result,
is in all but four instances, he found
the parents of these idiots werA either
Incorporate, addicted to sensual vices,
predisposed to insanity, or
had intermarried with blood relations.
ny-The talented and favorite West
ern Poetess, Miss Alice Carey, is lying
ill at her residences in New
York Her two sisters, Phoebe and En-
MIRA, are now with her.
nJ~Dr Townsend says that all that
is ;"qnirrd to make a fortune is, to fear
, I