Washington sentinel. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1853-1855, 1854-11-19


My Charms.
/ carry, fastened to my guard-chain, q few
rings and Jewels of one kind or another-the
habit is somewhat foppish, perhaps--I knew
that some of my friends think so but the
trinkets, though poor things in their way, are
really "charms" -amulets-w rely on to
keep me, in time to come, from similar follies
to those they memorable. When move they
give out little tinkling sound, like distant
foolscap and bells might do, and remind me Of
the past. When, under the influence of music,
light and perfume, things which are more in
toxicating to me than champaigne,) / find my
self whirling in dance till every beat of the
music seems to take me farther and farther
from the every day world--when feel the
thrill which only horseman OF dancer can
feel, the sensation of perfect sympathy between
| two different beings feel my partners
breath on my cheek--her curls playing about
my throat-when see her eyes grow suffused
and dreamy-more suffused and more dreamy,
when her breath comes quicker and quicker
warmer and warmer, and her lips nearer and
nearer--then, in the midst of what seems al
most opening paradise, my little monitors tinkle
their warning into my ear, and remember
what the truest novelist who ever wrote tells
me, and whisper to myself there is nothing
ness and deceit-bitterness and deceit-bit-
terness and deceit" "a.
Sometimes, again, when am alone by my
| FIRE at night when my daily toll is over and
all the rest of the household long asleep, then
finger the little trinkets one by one, and, as
face after face, and figure after figure rise up
before me, the fresher, better feelings rise up
before me !; the fresher, better feelings of my
heart will out; and when my dethroned idols
leave me again, desolate and lonely, ] am fain
to persuade myself that the smoke Of my cigar
has gone into my eyes, or that have over
| wearied them with my work--they are 80 wet.
! But as drop the golden toys from my fingers,
they ring little peal like q passing bell, and /
| think that the dead one alone of these givers
was the one whose truth was unfawed and her
faith pure. IF she had lived-God knows -
she might have beeu like the others--but /
cling to her love and memory as the single,
pure, bright star, which shines out the brighter
amid these. false lights and will-o'-whisps aAec-
ton.
Among these relics, is large, thin, golden
circle, deeply and rather ostentatiously carved
into roses and leaves. As look at It ] think
of H., who wept as if heart would break,
because she could not be present at my first
college defamation, and to satisfy whom had
to copy and give her the whole of that exces-
sively nonsensical performance. She it was
who, some some years later, when alarmed by
| an unruly horse, threw herself into my arms
sure that ! would and could protect her from
every danger under heaven She it is at whose
table dine every now and then, chat with her
moustashed husband, whose professional advi-
ser am, kiss her little chubby daughter, talk
to the lady herself gravely about mumps and
ague, think in my heart all the time OF an old
glove furnished arrow she once wore in her
hair, and lock of that same hair--all Of which
are slowed away in certain drawer ct home
and, az the old memories come over me l whis-
per to myself again, bitterness and deceit
bitterness and deceit"
There is, too, queer little yellow locket on
the face of which is set q glancing emerald
The jeweller cheated me when be made that
locket; the gold has rubbed off of it now, and
it is nothing but vile copper beneath. won
der if he knew the person got the emerald
from2
There is another ring-it is small, but the
gold is pure and solid; there is no chasing on
this ring, but it has clearer transparent crys-
tai open set on its face. The stone is so hard
that it will cut like diamond, at first sight
you would think that it was one-but it is lus-
treless now-6t emblem ofthe giver, for she is
dead, dead in her loneliness and purity, death
in that land where hope Is real
And here is another fit emblem of its giver--
money, q coin, a three-centpiece. Not silver,
though it looks like it; not worth what its face
tells you it is; o sham, q mercenary affair,
whose only end and use is to buy and sell with
A thing which looks bright and pretty when it
comes newly to you, but soon furnishes; which
slips from your grasp and disappears, and after
awhile comes back again from some odd cor
ner You scarcely know how, but which you lose
after all, and feel provoken about the loss-not
the value, for that is nothing.
So can run through the bunch of glittering
toys, bringing back old memories--always sad
ones though not wholly unpleasant, even If
sometimes little cynical. But the saddest
thought of all is when, turning the whole col.
lection in my hand, wonder to myself if all
the world is like the givers of these-if ] can
put my trust nowhere but in the grave--and,
as the charms drop slowly from my grasp, l see
more and more clearly that for the future
must turn to my friendly books with such re-
signation as l may, seeking TO find in them
some little portion (if it may be) Of that full
measure Of happiness which it was not my lot
to find where / FIRST sought it. And creep
away to my lonely bed, muttering 10 myself as
20, "panitas, rdnitdtumI which of as is happy
| in this world7 Which Of MS has his desire"
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