The Belmont chronicle, and farmers, mechanics and manufacturers advocate. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1848-1855, 1854-04-21

look from those large, unfathomabe, blacl
eyes was enough to haunt you for score o
restless nights, and the cadence of her swee
low voice, had something in it like the tnklt
of the waves in the sea-shell, which lirger
ed in your ear long after the words were spo
ken. Altogether, she was the most striking
impressive woman ever remembered to have
met; and yet there was little of self-re lance
in her gentle face. Albeit there had evei
been most perfect confidence between us, ont
\ /, more than any other, had shared all hei
high and glorious Dreams, | can now recol
lect, that often looked on her with sense
of awe.
She was tall and slight, and her figure mad
much of the plant grace of the dropping viii
low. Her face was pure as dream Of heav.
en-, with the brow calm and pale beneath the
midnight Of her death black hair, and the
cheeks colorless and almost transparent. But
her eyes---those large, mournful eyes, flash
| ing upon you sometimes from under their
| fringed lids with the gaze of an Italian In
,provisatrce--in them lay the chief charm Of
her countenance.
Years ago, my mother was laid to rest,
where Southern roses blow on her grave;
but never yet have l seen another face, or
listened to another voice SO full of inspiration.
She loved my father very tondly, even as
he loved her, and yet there was not one par
ticle of likeness or similarity between them.
l always used to wonder how they ever came
together, for should as soon have thought
of setting out an Indian palm in the midst of
Northern snow-bank, as of giving that
sweet, Southern passion. flower to the phleg-
matte clasp of my father.
But my mother loved him, and | have no
doubt they were very happy, only it always
seemed to me as if she had mistaken her des-
tiny. And yet, my father was noble man.
His mind was enriched by much travel, and
the advantages of a liberal education; and
his profession of the law could boast few
brighter ornaments.
But am wandering. That departure from
home is SO linked with my mothers image,
as she stood in the gate looking after me,
with her large, mournful eyes; and with my
fathers hale, hearty kindness, that | could
not forbsar describing them.
l was half sad, half pleased at the idea of
leaving home. rejoiced at the prospect of
new scenes, and new companions, but had
sore presentiment that my heart would ache
for my mothers ardent sympathy, in all the
vagares of my wild imagination. Among
my most engrossing subjects Of contempla-
tion, remember was the question who /
should have for room mate.
sat myself busily at work to sketch fam
cy portrait. Her name was to be Agnes.
She was to be tall and stately, and very beau
ticul; with such black hair and eyes as had
dreamed of in my visions of Spain's proud
beauties. She was to be very talented, and
/ was to love and reverence her and think it
joy enough to be permitted sometimes to
touch my trembling fingers to her satin
smooth raven har.
But in the midst of my vision, the stage
stopped before the gate Of large and hand
some mansion, and a gentleman and lady
came forth to welcome me.
at is Miss Cleveland, presume" said the
gentleman, in cheerful tone, and | looked
at him in pleased surprise, for he was very
handsome.
at is Louise, know" said the lady, and
she clasped me in her arms. sit is Florence
Cleveland's own child, for she has her moth
er's great, shy black eyes" ..........
returned the caress very warmly, and
then, standing back, looked at the little lady
with an eye of curiosity. Yes, it was just the
picture mamma had drawn of her school
friend, May Evelyn. The same quiet little
woman, with brown eyes, and smoothly par
ted brown hair--so affectlonate too She
put her arm about me, and led me into the
house, asking thousand questions about her
"darling Florence" as she called mamma.
Then she removed my wrappers, and pro.
posed to take me to my room mate. had
been travelling all day, but forgot my fatigue
in the excitement of seeing my imaginary
Agnes, and followed Mrs. Carleton briskly up
the long flight of stairs.
She led me by several apartments, from
within those closed doors could hear sounds
of laughter and cheerful talk, and at last she
paused before door in the west wing of the
building. "This is your room, Louise, DEAR"
she said as she opened the door.
1t was very pleasant room; cheerful
looking carpet was upon the floor; on one
side stood low French bedstead, with its
white spread, at the window was writing
table, with desk OF carved ebony, and round
the room were strown books and pictures s, be.
tokcning the occupant person of taste, q
well as wealth.
had noticed all this, in much less time
than it takes to tell it, and my eyes were
resting earnestly on my new room mate, wher
Mrs. Carleton stepped forward, and said gent
y-
"Lilly Dale, this is your room mate, Louise
Cleveland"
/ had never seen anything SO lovely as was
Lilly Dale at that moment; and yet nothing
could have been more unlike the Agnes of
my Imagination. She was very slight,
graceful girl, of not more than fifteen. Her
brow vas pure as the fresh fallen snow, and
a faint, sweet smile was playing and dimpling
about her rosebud mouth. Her rich, golden
ringlets fell over her snowy neck 10 tangled
light, and upon her small classical head, was
poured, through western window, the mol
ten glory OF the sunset. Her eyes were blue
as the midsummer sky at high noon; and her