Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1853-12-14
LIIIfA LINN Or The First Victim.
ny THE ASSOCIATE EDITOR.

w W ~ no AAAJ PiN'hANo VI 40
gladness, written there. For one, l love to
call up the memories of the by-goncs, and
look upon their old familiar faces.
Did you know Lillia Linn All its
foolish to ask such a question for Lila
was scarcely known beyond her own neigh
borhoo1. But you have seen the old school
house on the hill. side2 Well, Lillia went
there and sat, aud read, aud wrote after
copy, and played under the great hickory
tree down by the brook, and 1 played with
her, and worked hard sums for her, and
loved her too. But she died
Poo. lost Lillia ! | turn back and look on
the day when childhood's gladness drove
caro- away, when the realities Of life were
untried and size wos my own little laughing
angel. | wish | could tell you just how
Lila looked when she was n mere child,
and above all when she left school. But |
cannot; no, | cannot but | can sec her just
as she was the last time we sat on the scat
her brother Bob built under the cedar tree,
and said it was for us. No silyery wreath
floating across the blue sky of n summer
evening, was more graceful; no warbling
bird had a lighter heart but | cannot tell
you how teuderly her blue eye looked, and
sometimes had t~ear.drops c~linging to the
long lashes like beds of crystal. She was
the sweet flower that bloomcd out in bright
ness on the waysido Of my youth. l loved
her then, and when my locks became dark
and my brow was stamped with manhood's
signe', | loved her the more, and / love her
now in the noon or winter of life as it may
be. Yes, l love her pure spirit that hovers
DER me on angel wing, while | write of my
poor lost Lillia.
- years ago! How time flies 1t
seems but q few days, but I know it has
been more than that for my head is grow
ing white like it was when Lillia and | play
cd among the flowers on the brookside be-
low the mill, watching the { perch and
horned dace' frolicking in the sun where
it shone through the elder and hazel bush
CO on the bank and as pass my hand over
my face it feels hard and rough with wTink-
les, and here's my smooth cane, the gift of
n nephew in a foreign land, himself beyond
the morn of life, and, if that's my shadow
in the mirror against the wall, l am now an
old man.
Yes, - years have gone by since
LiIlia passed away, and l have been dream
ing as Il fife had not q winter and frosts, as
we'll as a spring time and flowers.
The country was new then the settle.
mcnts were sparse and the 'clearings' only
here and there in days travel. My faith.
err cam from Pennsylvania and so did Lii
LAS. They were scaool-mates in older
time and they { settled near each other il
the old wilderness. Ihavc heard my faith.
or say it seemed lonely till james Linn
came and bought land near him and bull
a cabin. Then wo had ncighbors. The
smoke from the two cabins curled UP grace
fully from wide ~chimneys and mingled to
gether in the clouds or vanished among th,
shadows of the wilderness.
A blessed home was there. l revere tn,
old trees that whispered so softly as tin
breeze played in the boughs, aud sent up
solemn anthem to heaven when the liv
storm leapcd upou their glossy crests. Tn
birds sang earlier then than now, and sweet
or too, it seems, and the creek beyond tn
{ patch sang a good song not to be forgot
ten; its silvcry tones linger with me yer
Years passed by so swiftly that we scarce
ly noticed their flight. Spring time wit
its flowers came an went, the brown leave
Of autumn fell and went to the dust and til
wins of winter walled the death of the oil
year, but Lillia and | cared little for tina
The snow might fall and clotho the oil
earth in u cold garniture of white, but OF
cabin fires were warm and we felt live Low
and happiness glowing in our hearts.
When the next spring came with ne
flowers and birds tossing, we were to be ma
ricd.
All We were happy!
1 shall never forget that dismal whit,
night. The fire on our cabin hearth burr
cd brightly enough to dispol dull care, b,
somehow | felt comfortlcss and sad. NJ
father held our old Bible on his knee ar
real aloud the promises on its blessed page
while my mother busily piled the knittir
needles weaving warm socks for me. l.
tic Lie was playing with the yellow kite
on the rug, aud [ sat with my head leanil
against the logs Of the cabin listening
the storm without. A sleet and a cuttir
hail was coating the old forest with a crac
ling armor. How the cold pebbles of i
AdbtACu Ou OuI CdDlu IOOI L can near the
pattering music yet. The sky was blaC
and deep with restless clouds, and the ligI
of our lamp iared out dimly through Il
little window upon the solitude and gloon
The wind msaned like some invisible mo
ster in agony, as it swept on, now mad
through the black wilde. ness, then in stru
CLING gusts dying away in the distance lii
the spirit-whisperings of the wailing 10.
The next morning at carly light VIC we
startled at the appearance of one of our neig
bors. He rushed into our cabin wet Al
cold. His stout brown clothes were to
and begrimmed with dark stains of mu
He had evidently been struggling throu
brambles and forests for hours. There "
wildness in his eyes. He stood in our ca
in and trcmbled. 1t was Bob Linn. Ikn
something dreadful had happened and
stood before him and could not speak.
shrieked rather than spoke:
'Lillia is lost! ?.
Lillia lost how the words froze into r
heart How it spread from cabin to cat
in the settlement for Lila was the Il
ed Of all.
Mr.. Linn was a drinking man, and Lii
and l had spoke Of it and wept together
we sat under the cedar tree on the seat Il
Bob had built for as.
The day before, he had been at the n