Des Moines courier. ([Ottumwa] Iowa) 1848-1854, 1854-01-19

! from masterpiece TO masterpiece, until il
rests upon the full length figure, by all
English artist, of Bacchus in the vine.
yard, faneifaIly bedecket by the homage
of the wine makers. Gradually, the
figure helghtens and broadens, and grows
stranger IN visage aud look Across his
capaclous chest he sees brooches, crosses
and pearl and diamond ornaments, IN
Dumerable. His fingers CLEAN with rings.
Patches of silks, and sa,ins. and velVels.
and skreds of lace. make up party col.
ored attire. The wine cups and grapes
at his feet have changed to goblets and
glasses, and plates with the remains Of
some feast scattered around them. He
moved his head, bedecked with many
feathers, to and fro, as if in the hearing
and To the measure of some melodious
music. Much wonders the merchant
from his couch at this strange metamor-
phose of his full-length Bacchus, and
much The yawning butler wonders al the
strange whlm which keeps his master in
the parlor up SO late.
To and fro moves the figure, with his
curious dress, and nodding pumes, and
cleaning Jewels, among the feast remains
beneath his feet; and soon steps down
and stands before the astonished host
"Who-who-and wha, are you?"
ssammers the latter, still reclining on The
sofa. and but for his staring eyes, seem
iugy asleep.
Fear me not. am but the ghost OF
a party, taking my last look Ipon the do.
ngs of tonight. From house to house
! move the winter through. Behold in
me but the shadows which have hiued
here to o.night! Upon my person see the
details OF dress and ornament which
within these walls gazed upon as one
great whole tonight! Within my hearl
| feel confined The envies. hatreds, NAL.
ices. jealousies. and gossiping thoughts
OF ITO night There's no, hollow soul
| have not gazed into, and read its va
cant, sinful thoughts Alright. All houses
in this bus'llng metropolis see my shad
ow N deserted rooms''
The Ghost of Last Nights Party
paused, and the merchant slightly NOV
ed, as to give gesture of wonder, when
the figure still spoke on:
"Oh. Morris Morton, It's discomfort.
ed road you've opened in your life To
night. TO be a party ,giver, party dan
Ger, diner oul!--a caterer to vanity and
iashionab BILE strlfe!-to be shining mark
for envy's shaft!--,o be the but, and Sc
cret laugh of giddy fools! Where is
your youths delight Where is the
freshness of its morn! Was il to be a
selfish devotee of fashion you have slav.
ed abroad in foreign ciimes. and toiled
a, home forgellul of your blood!"
The merchant started a, the word, but
still The ghost spoke on.
Your blood! You think them dead.
| Bui search and lea.n-"
"You know Them then! Where is my
mother! Who is your - and the
words died into indistinc,nes sas the
merchan; sprang upon his feet, and seem
ed 10 clutch towards something in the air
something that had been but was moi
For still around him humed the brilliant
gas, and still before him hung the pic
lures, and the full length Bacchus. too.
as when he first had laid him down.
Twas bui dream--but life like.-
And those words-lhose meaning words
and that significant air!'
AND the merchant slowly walked to
ward the butler's room, looking around
a, every step as if he thought the Ghos'
of Las, Nights Party followed at his
heels.
TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK.