Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1854-12-06
FOR THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE.
The Social Circle.

The Social Circle.
TO ISEz IRVING, Or, AND FLORA FLAYILLE:
Dear Friends: will not attempt to tell
you how delightful our correspondence is to
me, and now that Lora is one of US, won't
we have a cozy Winter? Just imagine it, a
new Age dropping in on US every week, with
a new proof of our ldye.l AS welcome as the
dear SPIRIT has ever been, it will be doubly
so hereafter. And if we can only persuade
Major Original to appear, with some of his
charcoal sketches. All girls, where has he
concealed himself this long while? Inez
writes as 1t she never heard of him but,
Flora, do you think she could forget him
were he to charcoal her once. which I am
very certain he will do if she says "a fig for
hin" again! However, | presume it is best
for us all to keep silence, for no doubt. he is
lar away In some remote corner, sketching
US all for his amusement. But let him rest.
l thank Inez for painting that picture of
poor Carrie so brightly. 1t is so sad to think
our companions will thus openly disobey
kind fathers, and then be forever outcasts to
those they once loved SO we'll. Why will
they act thus? Perhaps they have never
known those upon whom a fathers curse has
rested nor the unhappy moments spent by
those wretched persons nor yet, the con-
SPRAhOo0 AZ a UCduGlluI HOUH. sur
rounded by kind and loving friends. 1t is
one of Life's gloomy pictures, and one upon
which l never love to linger. Let as turn to
q brighter one.
Did L ever tell you. dear friends, of a Jour.
nal 1 penned years ago? Many life-scenes
are painted there, some sad, others bright
and beautiful. We will open at the first
1t is a snowy day. The earth was clothed in
her winter garb-the boughs of the noble
oaks were bowed low with the hanging crvs-
tails and all was still, save the whistle of the
winds. The little birds had hushed their
songs, and retired to warmer homes moth
ing stirring without, except the soft flakes of
snow that fell so fast. But why linger with
out, when such a charming fire in yon noble
mansion bids US welcome. Let us paint the
group OF happy ones gathered around =
Little rosy-cheeked George is in the corner,
leaning his bright curly head on Mrs. Lanes
lap-then Jessie, just blooming into wo-
manhood, her long chestnut curls thrown
carelessly from the pure brow, gazing with
her bright gazelle-like eyes on vacancy, as it
were. And yet smiles wreathed her ROSY
lips, for Hattie, the fathers pet, was telling
q long story OF schOoldays, and becoming so
excited, that her jetty eyes twinkled until
-tpafsteda rs stated RAM EapM-atthsdAA r
slant visitor, and 1 judge from Jessie's
smiles and bushes, a welcome one. Hattie
sits at the piano, drowning the sweet words
thai are spoken rather lO1O, at the window
All is happiness, and for a time the wretch
edness of the sick and poor is forgotten
but q little pale face peeps in on the happy
group. The little one is not at all abash
ed at the sceneibefore her, but simply ask
for Mr.. Lane.
"Ah! what do you want, little one ? =
Come to the fire and warm, and tell me you
story"
"My father is dying, and mother say
please come to see him."
Certainly. But you stay here, and I wi
come for you by and by"
No, sir; ] must go to mother she
: sick too"
The comfortable carriage is brought fortl
and Mrs. Lane and the little Lima step in
but Lima is not cold now, Jessie and HIATT
have wrapped warm cloaks around her shi
ering form, and she looks with pride, fir
on the nice cloak, all her own, and then c
! the large basket before her, slowed with q
= r that is welcome to the sick. A few momen
= and the little hut is in view. All! the pc
J father has breathed his last, and oh! t
mother too Oh that sad spectacle! Pc
8 Lima, you are an orphan now. No moth
to let you nestle in the warm loving bosor
no father to pet you now. All Lima, you
= is q sad lot no friend claims the last, s
task of loving and caring for you. Yet the
" dwelleth a God, who still will be a father
= the fatherless. Mr.. and Mrs. Lane are
y instruments in Gods hands to befriend
little orphan. Father and mother are burr
, hidden from Lima, who cannot think W
they should die and leave her, nor why
- tears should trickle Town her cheeks, WI
Mrs. Lane tells her she will be her mother
IT Years pass away-and again the fan
- meet. 1t is a snowy day-Robert and Je
"a have married and have come with tn
charming children to pet. Hattie too i
nice, little wife for Henry B; and G.
gle is a fine boy of sixteen. But where
Lima the orphan? All just draw aside
curtain and behold a lovely lady tete.a-
with one of North CaroIina's gifted, inteI
." tual sons. That lady is Lima. Three we
and she is Mrs. III.
' l And now, dear friends, l have drawn
life picture. There are others / love |
= but this came first in my journal. S
day l shall hand it over, for your perusf
Wouldn't you like to read the though
have traced there, thinking at the time
eve ever would scan the closely written
ges2 l dare say it would amuse you.
adieu. MATTE MA
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