The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1854-03-04

silently beneath. 1t always suggests to me,
the valley of the shadow of death We
Mr.. d., Martha, Maggie and myself--trippcd
lightly down the green foot-path through the
meadow, until we stood upon the old bridge
and gazcd down into the deep, dark waters.
Then it seemed that a shadow fell upon our
hearts. We forgot our icsts and merrimcnt,
and were thoughtful and long visagcd as be-
cane rarty headed by clergyman. The
sun had gone down long since and the moon
was Just risen as we turned our faces home
ward. When we emerged from the forest path
into the meadow, Martha said TO ne:
You accompany Mr.. Dartmorc to the house
and Maggie and | will soon join you there
They came in nearly an hour afterwards
and went to their chamber. Presently Martha
came down TO the parlor. / saw that she had
been weeping, ana knew that the sisters had
been together it might he for tic last time,
to visit their mothers grave. Presently |
stole up to their chamber. | found Maggie
seated by the cast window with her head
dropping upon the sill weeping bitterly. There
was no light in the room, but the full moon
shonc brightly, rendering every object dis
tictlv visible. shall never forget the scene,
rs first looked upon it. The most prominent
figure was poor Maggie, as have described
her her arms folded upon the window sill and
her face resting thereon, sobbing, sobbing as
if her heart were well nigh broken. Near her
stood a travelling trunk, and, not far off,
band-box Thrown over a chair, in one cor
ncr, was travelling dress and mantle, while
upon small table near by, lay neatly trim
med bonnet, evidently intended to accompany
the dress. stole to her side, and passing my
hand over her dark locks, said:
'Maggie'
But Maggie lifted not her head. Then I
crouched beside her, and putting my arm
about her said:
Dear Maggie do not weep: will be sister
toyou, when Martha is gone. do not weep thus
dear cousin
She threw her arms about my neck--mur.
muring between her sobs,
'Oh Bel cannot give her up: it will break
my heart, indeed it will. knew not how |
loved her until new. She is all the world to
me, how can live without her.
strove to soothe and comfort her as best
might, and succeeded in part. | will not dcs-
cribc the scene next morning. You have been
at weddings, and it is always pretty much the
same old story; and this seemed such a sad
welding, I've no heart to cntcrinto details.
They were married Martha was gone, and
too, had to go back to - School. Weep
ing, Maggie promised TO write me very often:
to tell me all her thoughts and frc!ngs-;n
fact to look upon me as Il sister. This is her
first letter.
DEAR BEL:-I am sitting in our chamber.
Alas it is ours no morc-only mine; she is 10
longer here. Oh Bel You cannot understand
how lonely and d,solatc | feel. | wander
about the house as enc lost, or in drcam-a
strange, sad dream. My dye chances to fall
upon ribbon, dress, she used to wear; or
tavoritc book we have loved, and often read
together, and involuntarily | burst into tears.
can't help it for the impression is strong up
on me that she is dcad-lost to me forever.
These few weeks, since she went away, they
seem to Inc like ycars-long ycars-and my
heart f els cid, as if years Of sorrow had rest
ed heavily upon it, crushing cut CT it all life,
and light and joy. And l have to go to the
mirror to convince myself that am ind, ed
young girl ofsXteen. But don't think | nope
and wear long face from morning till night.
Oh no; that would be wrong, it would dis
trcss dear father so. When he is by laugh
and jest and recount to him all the funny
things | can think of. After tea, these pleas
ant evenings, we sit in tie porch: sometimes
read him a gay story. Sometimes he reads
to himself while Nero and play ball; but
often he joins our sport, and now and then we
take stroll sometimes into town to see aunt
katy-sometimcs up the valley to the old
MILL but never to the dear old bridge. |
couldn't go there without weeping, and |
would not have him see me weep. would
not have him think, she wecps for Martha
she forgets she has still father to love- All
no! can never forget or cease to love my
father: he is very, very dear to me; but Mar
thai loved her too well -nonc can ever fill
her place-nonc can ever be to me what she
has been. When fretful child she nursod
and rocked me to sleep upon her bosom; she
led me when my feet first fcarfully began their
life journey. She taught NE to repeat my
first prayer. 1t was her kiss that oftcncst
dried my tears, and her voice that soothcd my
childish sorrow. AS years passed and grew
older | learned to looked upon her as altogeth-
or mine. She was my earthly idol had no
the ught or wish in life but was connected with
her. Did win praise !! it was nought, unless
she heard it. Did search for the tiny BIOS
som of spring, or the fairest rose Of summer?
it was that | might place it in her bosom. or
Irvine it among her dark brown ringlcts. Joy
was not joy unless she shared it; and sorrow
was scarcely sorrow when my tears fill upon
her sympathsing bosom. And now, to give
her up-to feel that can be to her no more