Iowa capitol reporter. [volume] (Iowa City, Iowa) 1841-1855, 1853-03-23

! round me
One evening soon after my return, X ate
| joi ned me in the parlor where was sitting and
our conversation turned as it naturally would,
upon 'od times aud parsicu 'arly to oecnrren-
| ces during my absence for although had oc-
ca,ipnaily received letters from home. there
are thousand things omitted in correspon.
! dence, which possess a strong interest for us
When We meet.
"Sevcn-no, six long years, said she have
yon been gone, and among our acquaintances
the grave has only opened twice; ONCE for your
dear old grandfather, and the last tine for
your early playmate--"
1 ,'Who?" cried /, as sad suspicion sudden.
" flashed over my mind, you canno, mean
j 'sYes, hrctlvr Sass is leais Z.
There occasions when accident so be.
nunbs the physical frame. that hours elapse
ere the thrill of pain is felt. SO was it with
my heart at This announcements as soon as
the words fell from he- lips. those lips which
willingly would have been seated forever rssh
er than utter a word of unnecessary pain to me,
! ! re- liz"d the intensity Of my coming agony,
without directly yielding 10 its power An
interval of silent and terrible amazcment, and
! ! FASTENED to my room. Where then was the
strong spirit which had laughed to scorn the
simple tokens Of pure and early love, and
frozen lis current to their impression?
1t was then evident that the young maiden
whom had mistaken for Su>y was a younger
sister,whcm soon recalled as romping care
| less girl of ten summers, who used to tease her
| SuSy about The young sailor, but rather scowl-
ed on me as interfering with the happiness
she considered solely as belonging to her
| self
| fortnight of wretchedness went by, in
| which disclosed how deep had really been
| my love and under what Unpleasant crcum-
stances we had parted. How miserable thing
it is to feel that an old friendship has been sew
cred that some little occurrence of daily
life has changed the whole current of the souls
! deep feeling; but much more miserable far to
! feel that the original sharer with you in the
! broken Gn IN has gone to his long repose. and
no words of reconciliation on either SIDE
! went TO the church yard---saw the grave
stone and there it still stands beneath locust
|
| Died August lS4--"
| planted Il sweet brier by il and years after
saw it trailing over the summit Of the stone
its pink flowers hiding themselves in the deep
cut 'ctters of her name. I sowed some flower
seeds in the coming spring and the last time
that | returned from sea, found the Hibiscus
and sweet William in full bloom and the snow.
drop waving its little branphes above them.
l went TO the village church--sat in my old
/ seat--loaked sinto the sn,ac old hymn-book and
found our names written there in childish cap.
! ial side 10y side But neither friendly conso.
| lari"n. n the guardian locust. nor the spring.
ing flowers beneath, nor the minister 5 kind Y
voice, removed from my cup the bitter taste OF
our parting quarrel. She had said nothing
| during er illness that indicated love for me
or revealed our dliIe cnccs Indeed, her own
mother never knew Of our int'nse attachment s
or of their foolish severance, but a. far as the
former were concerned, looked thereupon Il,
nuuEht but a dream of chidhnod, which the
maturity Of years and the realities of lie would
destroy forever.
Tome had sottcncd % all her friends the fret
shock of her afflicrion, but TO me the iidings
were of the moment. aud God knows that |
felt with more fervor than ever, how deeply |
! loved her memory and trembed lest Her spirit
in the homes of The unfetterrd. might vert the
| spell Of watchful affection which it always ex.
crci,cd on earth.
ln the C ,nin spring embarked again and
with me went the image of poor Su-y. and
wien again returned, after the first thri !Iof
| joy over. a horrible re action again over.
whrlmed m when the sad vacancy became
palpab e As a shadow of death
Upon the second night of my return. as
ki-spG my Kate good-uigh,, my Kate who had
grown up to sweet and dignihrd matrouhood
and went TO my room, sat moment by the
open window. The moonlight ay like enamel
on the sIire and roof and oaken paunels of the
church and the cold granite steps looked . aler
than ever. There We parted there We proud
ly checked the glowing of our affection and
strovc to assume the garb of owe less, and sell
fish Indifference. Alas How poorly did it
become us.
shut my window, drew the shutters and
going to my old desk sought out some OF her
girIi>h letters written in our earliest love, and
among the ingenious expressions of her
young heart. found one pas sage relating to a
secret drawer in which, with the jealous fear
of beardlcss lover, | was used to hide the
bouquets, and marks and little kcepsakes of
susy' y's,-a mysterious chamber fan of change.
lesSmementoes Of what We thought change
less love.
TWAS curous'y inserted and would escape
the detection Of common observers. but eager
y opened it, FOR had Tor long time forgot
hat such place was in existence, and there
were the faded relics of happier and mora in
nocen: agc,-faded and withered till the stem
and petal would crumble at the, touch were the
howcrswhich het hand had culed and her lips
pressed. all wet with the dews Of the morning,
full half score Of years before. And there
were book marks, no longer wearing the fresh
artistic colors of maideus pride, but dingy
and worn, as if the heartless years were mock
ing my misery!
ia one corner was note with my inita S
II was da ed "B August 2nd l64--" but two
weeks before her death
Within were a lock of hair and these words
written-not in the firm and ladylike hand
which characterized the letters of her marurer
years, but with weak and trembling strokes
as though she saw the beckouing of the Angel
and grew weary in the march Of life
II cnt this lock to-day. hoping that you
may sometime get it-that you may know how
! sincerely forgive you, George, and pray your