Eastern times. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1846-1857, 1854-06-29

I
beautiful study for an artist-that figure and
attitude, all SO harmonized and beautiful
One could scarcely believe but that an angel
dwelt within, so sinless and harmless seemed
that shape of human mould.
The supper is ready /; the family is seated
at the table but where is Willie9 Upper
ceived, and silently as creeps a shadow across
a lawn, had he left the room. But Willie
must have his supper, aud so they call him
about the house, and out at the door, but still
no answer from Willie and SO they search
Out by the wood-pile and in the shed at the
kennel of the dog, and where the chickens
roost but still no Willie.
Perhaps he has gone out to the barn. says
one of the young women. You know that
Jupiter is not well Of late, and he and Willie
are great friends and Willie is much worried
about him.
The lantern was lighted, and the master of
the house, accompanied by his two daughters,
wended their way to the barn. BY this time
the stars were shining, and the cold beams Of
the moon glittered over the snow-clad plains,
and through the branches of the old apple or
chard. As they approached the barn, their
ears were saluted with groans and lamenta-
tion, and entering, and holding the lantern
over into the stall of Jupiter, they beheld the
faithful beast, fiat upon his side, in the last
throes Of death, and little Willie upon his
knees beside him. with his arms around his
neck, sobbing most piteously.
Oh, don't die, Jupe, dear , said the child,
'don't die, Jupe, dear What will poor
Willie do if you 60 away and leave him! |
shall die, too, if you 60 and leave me. Oh,
don't, don't die
And the poor dumb beast partly raised his
head, and gazed affectiOnately and intelligent
ly at the child, as though he would commua
nicate his thoughts and tell him all it suffered
and felt, and bid him farewell forever. And
then came such piteous moan from his deep
chest, and his flesh qnivered in agony. and
beads of froth began to gather round his mouth
and the sweat to reek from his sides. 1t was
a sad and piteOus sight-enOugh to touch the
stoutest heart; and yet poor Willie hung
around his favorites neck, and mourned for
him, and wept as though his little heart would
break In vain was all remonstrance the
child would not be quieted, but still persisted
in mis- lamentauon, using the fUndest terms Of
endearment, and pleading away death with all
the eloquence of childhood. But the struggle
was brief; a few short convuIsive twitches-a
low moan or two, a frightened cleaning of
the eye, one look of agonizing appeal, as
though beseeching for relief in his dire ex-
tremity, and Jupiter, for many years the
tried and faithful servant, ceased to breathe,
and night and death spread over his eyes that
dark, impenetrable veil, that never through all
future time, shall again be lifted Thus fear
tul is the gloomy king, even in his approach
to animals. Poor Willie he believed his
first and only friend had gone from him, and
it seemed as though there would be no end to
his sorrow. Disconsolate and almost heart
broken, he threw himself upon the yet warm
body Of Jupiter, and burst forth into passionate
eXclamatons nor for some time could all ar
gument or coaxing induce him to come out of
the stall, leave his dead friend, and 90 into the
house and when he did so, it was still in
tears, still talking and murmuring TO himself.
And thus lost he his appetite for supper, and
he was soon put to bed unappeased, and still
in tears, and it was long after midnight ere
the poor child got to sleep, wherein, amid his
sobs, he still dreamed Of Jupiter, or enacted
over again the scene Of his death.
Willie was an orphan. Never knew he
father nor mother Both died soon after he
was born, and some distant relatives-those
him to bring up. He scarcely knew the
name of mother, only as he heard it from other
children as he went forth to play with them
and often on spring nights, when the frogs
were singing in the neighboring brooks and
swamps, would he lie awake and cry, and
when questioned as to the cause, ashamed to
confess weakness which he himself did not
understand, he would ascribe it to a headache,
fortunate, indeed if it were not the cause OF
his being dosed with medicine And on long
summer days it was his chief delight to roam
over the fields alone, gathering wild flowers
or sitting in the tall grass, beneath the over
shadowing branches of trees, he would listen
to the warbling Of birds, or watch the white,
fleecy clouds sail along the azure of the sky,
picturing them as chariots in which he longed
to be riding. But his favorite haunts were in
the depths of the forest, which he could pene-
trate, solitary and alone, to its gloomiest re-
cesses, and sitting down upon a moss-grown
log or half-decayed stump, he would listen tc
the strange and mystic music that came to him
from every forest aisle and tree top. There
was within him an instructive sympathy fol
the surrounding solitude it possessed an awe
like that with which cloister inspires devo
tee. Trees to him were mysteries, and the
stones even, and the moss which covered then
and the little ponds, with grass still green up
on their bottoms; and the trickling brook, anC
the smooth pebbles within, and the little in
sects that skated briskly over It's surface, ant
| those of every size that swann in darker am