True American. [volume] (Steubenville [Ohio]) 1855-1861, 1855-05-01
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From the Waverly Magazile.
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THE DARK MORNING
THE GOLDEN DAY. +,
ATale Of thesTimes.
BY ELLEN FARMAN.
CHAPTER 1.

sThs strangers heart--Oh wound tnot-
A gearning anguish ia its lot,
Beneath the shadow Of thy tree
The stranger finds no rest with thee"
Ny dear Mrs. Grey, do not take my pen
from mel / have nothing to do these
night hours and writing is pleasanter far
than sleep. You can take the lamp Mrs
Grey. can write by tho moonlight, it is
50 very brilliant.
Thus pleaded young girlto aproud, state
ly woman, robed in satin, who stood before
her with an expression of contempt and
displeasurc upon her cold, handsome face.
"Put away that trash in moment"
said Mrs. Grey. "You are wasting paper
and ink. They were not purchased for such
as you. Kitchen girls cannot write poetry
here, Give all the paper to me-"
,"No, Mrs. Grey, l shall not, said the
young girl, firmly. "It is not yours, for
it was not purchased with your gold. These
are mine,' and the rolls Of paper were
clasped convulsively in the hand which
held them.
But Mrs. Grey took them from her by
force, exclaiming-
"GiVe them hero. There, gilt-edged
paper, as live, and rose tinted, too.-
: Where did you getit, girl? Miss Ada has
some like it, but you could not have dared
to enter the library. Where did you get
it, Glennie Merrills2 Tell mel If you
have stolen it, you shall be sent back to
the Aims House, from whence l took
you"
''Mr. Lionel gave it to me-" said the
girl calmly. "Hc boughtit for me; never
steal, Mrs. Grey; that is beneath my dig
nifty, even if am kitchen girl"
every WE'LL" said Mrs. Grey, haughtily
--"I will take care of this. If my son
bought it, you have no business with it;
never, on your peril, dare touch pen again.
! took you into my kitchen to have you do
my work; you were not taken from the
alms-house to bo up at midnight with
silver lamp moddhrg with poetry and lite
rature. Poetry by kitchen girl, indeed |!
And with scornful sweep, the naughty
Mrs. Grey left the room. .t.sa
For an hour Glennie Merrills sat mo-
tionless in the marble stiffness, as Mrs.
Greylcft her, her pale, maddonna face calm
as marble, and so white in the lustrous
moonlight.
! Glennie Merrills was very beautiful; far
too beautifulto be a city kitchen girl. Her
hazel eyes were darker than summer skies
at midnight--fathomlessly deep with mys-
terry, changeful with lights and shadows
yet over chaining more of starriness than
sunshine in their depths; and the long,
dropping lashcs gave more Of shadow to
aheir glory, Her hair was almost raven
black, and its waving gwealth of rich tress-
es was always banded back from her full,
massive, icc-clear brow, and knotted low
in heavy braids at the back Of her small
classical head. Her features were very
sweet and girlish, and very pale, when
resting upturned in the moonlight. Her
form was light and childish, and robed in
mourning black--for Glennie Merrills WAS
an orphan--brotherless, sistcrless, alone
10 the world, an alms-house. girl, in the
employ Of the wealthy Mrs. Grey.
Only seventeen summers had given beau
ty to Gleunie, but 50 soon themysto sheen
Of poesy rested on her lonely life, until it
wore the loveliness Of Arcadia, the glory
OF lost Eden. Long, weary days she toll
ed in Mrs. Grey's kitchen, but the days
were borne gladly for the nights There,
in her gArFet, with lamp and pen, she. was
happy happier far than the wealthy Ada
Grey sleeping in thelrioh boudoir below.
The'plain room was,lit with glory the
,heirsss might mover sse. She breathed
the charmed atpospherenof Helicon;
'Bdllhns glanesssof something glorious as
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