Daily evening star. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1852-1854, 1853-08-25
80. From the Literary Companion.
BEN BOLT AND SWEET ALICE.
BY AMANDA MINNIE pouo LASS.

BY AMANDA MINNIE porGLAss
"Oh, don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt
Sweet Alice; whose hair was so brown-
Who blushed with delight when Won gave her a
s,-- smile,
And trembled with fear a. your frown:
In the Old church yard III the valley, Ben Bolt,
la corner secluded and lone.
They have fitted slab Of granite so gray.
And sweet, Alice lies under the stone e.'-Eu sish.
Don't you remember? Are those three
magic wOrds-a key wherewith we may
unlock the flood gates of the heart, and
send the sweet waters of the past over
the plains and down the hills of that fair
land, known in our heart-experience as
by gone! Even SO. There rises before
us visions of a time when the bright, deep
eyes of the young Spring gazed shyly at
us from beneath the ermined mantle of
Wintcr-when the blue violets stole their
first tint from the bluer sky above; when
the cowslips of sunny May, and the goI-
den-hearted butter-cups first jeweled the
slender blades of grass; and the haw-
thorn grew white with it's blossoms
when we roamed the woods with the
whole Of that long, warm, lovabIe June
holiday, weaving garlands and listening
to the concert of birds in that dark. mis-
tletoe-wreathed oaken forest. There was
one in years agone that prayed Lord
keep my memory green, and the clinging
tendrils of our hearts go ever back yearn-
ingly to this prayer.
But green and fresh as the poets pray
er, had the heart of Ben Bolt been kept
from his early boyhood to the hour he sat
by his old friend, and listened to the song
of by-gone days. Not Through glass,
darkly," did he review those scenes of
the past, but it was the going back of the
boy-heart to other hearts of childhood.
There was the old red school house,
with its dusty windows, and desks that
had been nicked many time, trying pen
knives; its tall, stern-looking teacher,
whose heavy voice caused the younger
ones to tremble; its rows of boys and
girls, with their heads bent attentively
downward to their books and states. The
wild winter wind sang and whistled with
out, and though some few childish hearts
tried to find words for its mournful notes,
they were too young and happy to know
that it carried desolation and heart-ache
in its wall; yet did they learn it in after
days.
Then there came few light, round
snow balls, so tiny that it must have been
the sport of the storm sprites in their
eldrich revels-changing by and by to
feather fakes, that danced about ever so
gaily. Now the children's eyes grew
bright as they looked at one another and
thought of the merry rides down hill,
and the snow-balling that would make
the playground ring again. The last
lessons We're said, books and states put
aside, and in place of the silence, reigned
gay, glad voices. Kate Ashley shook
back her jetty ringlets, and laughed
through her sparkling eyes, as she gave
Jamie Marvin that bit of curl he had
teased for so long, because she knew
Jamie had the prettiest sled in the whole
school. All, bit of coquette was that
same gleeful, romping Kate; and there
was Sophia Dale, looking as demure as a
kitten walking from pan of new milk,
and as playful as kitten too, was she, in
spite of her quiet looks; and the stately
Elizabeth-queen Bess they called her,
and Iquestion if England's queen had a
laughter carriage; but apart from these
who were eagerly looking for friends to
take them home, stood Alice May.-sweet
Alice. Very beautiful and lovable was
she, with her winsome, childish face, blue
eyes and soft. brown curls. She was so
delicate and fragile, you might almost
fancy her little snow child, or lost
fairy babe.
Nearly all the children had departed,
amid the joyful shouts and jingling of
bells, but yet the sweet little child stood
alone, until rich boyish voice startled
her by saying-''No one goes your way,
Alice, do they?"
"No, I guess not, Ben, she replied, in
her fine, bird-like tones"
"Well, the snow is too deep for you to
walk, so guess will carry you home. "
"Oh, no, am too heavy to be carried
sc far" and she laughed low and sweetly.
"Heavy no you're just like thistle
down, or q snowflake, Ally; could carry
you to England and back again, without
being at all fatigued," and he tossed the
little girl in his arms.
''No, no, let me go-the boys will laugh
at you, Ben,' and she struggled.
''What do care. they may laugh at
Ben Bolt as much as they like" and the
brave boy drew himself up proudly, and
| pushed the chestnut curls from his broad,
fair forehead: "but I did not mean to
frighten you Alice" he continued, as he
saw how the little girl trembled.