The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-04-26
For the National Era.
A CHAPTER FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.

heard them. How cheerful they were, and how
| full of life How strong the contrast with my
own sad thoughts and failing health l could
bear it no longer. Rising, / threw shawl
over my shoulders, and stepped to the door.
Aice!" called, and she came Immediately;
" tell them not to disturb me for hour or
two; / would like to rest WHILE" 1t seemed
a comfort, when the doors were closed between,
and the hum of voices shut completely out.
threw myself on the lounge, glad to be left
alone with my own reflections. The blinds
were thrown back, the curtains undrawn
through the window the full moon poured a
flood of the purest, most silver light. ! ar
ranged the pillows, so that it might fall on my
face as | lay there seemed sweet, unobtru-
sive companionship in those mild beams.
| 1t had been a lovely day, such as occasion
ally visits us in October, and seem If they
had strayed hither out of Paradise. Unable
more fully to enjoy it, l had seen from my
room the blue sky, fecked with little clouds
the sunshine, slanting on the faded grass-the
woods, whose royal hues of gold, and red, and
purple, shone so softly through the tempering
haze-and had felt, on my hot forehead, the
breath of its delicious airs. Oh, what days are
| like these days of Autumn What mournful
glory enhaloes them to how divine melan-
choly do they win us In my best times, when
l was well, and strong, and happy, this funeral
pomp of Nature-this so gorgeous apparelling,
and only for decay-had always saddened me.
saw In it, as many must, type of our bright
and perishable hopes the falling leaf seemed
a fit emblem of fleeing, dying life. If
such thoughts sought me, even then, no wonder
that now they came with ten-fold force.
| l could not see the sunset, for my room had
no western window but l knew what it had
been like. How from the departing orb vel
| low light had streamed across the landscape,
so thick, SO rich, that you might almost grasp
| it in your hand-how, when he disappeared, the
horizon glowed with splendor far beyond the
brightest summer evenings. There were no
clouds to catch his latest beams-no rosy blush
spread from the place of his setting, far around
| the heavens to the distant east. But through
the clear sky famed red and golden radiance,
that faded, faded softly, into the most translu
cent green, which again was lost in the pure
| blue of the upper air. | could see it all and
how, as night drew nearer, the shadows deep
ened and darkened, the hills and forests grew
mysterious-the square-buit houses the fences,
the dilapidated barns, all picturesque. Many
and many time ] had walked homeward,
| through just so cool and clear night, drinking
in with all my soul the beauty of the scene.
| That could never be again. When next the
Indian summer shone upon the earth, should
long have passed away the dead leavesfof an
other autumn would drift across my graye. /
sighed to think of it. Though every hope has
gone from life, it is hard to leave this bright
world for the dark and gloomy tomb. 1t was
hard, at least for me, who saw no light beyond.
One year ago, how Different We had been
out, gay party, beech-nutting in the colored
woods. None of us cared for the nuts-prob-
ably not halfa-dozen would be eaten when they
were gathered but that did not mar our pleas
ure. We went through the stumble fields, and
along the little brook, the girls holding their
bonnets in their hands, letting the sweet wind
and sweeter sunshine play freely Cd cher faces
and among their hair. My cousin was with us,
and an object of attention to them all. One
dared not venture on the plank that crossed
the stream, without his aid; another was weary,
and asked the support of his arm, as she toiled
up the hill. A third, more timid, whispered to
me how very like he was to that picture of
Byron, taken in his early manhood. 1t needed
no peculiar quickness to detect the similarity;
he had the same chiselled features, the same
close-curling hair, and thoughtful brow; even
the statuesque neck resembled his. With what
mingling of love, and pride, and admiration
did | regard him, as he walked with us that
afternoon
We reached the woods-the fallen leaves
rustled under our feet-now and then SPUR
rel darted from tree to tree, or, nut in paw,
surveyed US leisurely from some lofty bough,
as if to see who these intruders might be, and
how far they were likely to depredate upon his
stores. BY and by we stopped to rest. l threw
myself on bank cushioned with the softest
moss, and looked at Louis, who leaned against
a tree, and talked with Sophy Grey, the beauty
of our group. 1t was strange-the girls were
pleasant, and liked them all--yet at that mo-
ment could have wished them miles away, and
he and alone together in the depths of that
delightful wood
had cause to wish it yet more before the
day was over. Sophy was a hirt; she took
pleasure in attracting Louis, and tormenting
me. So / thought then, at any rate. God
forgive me, if were too harsh She mannu-
vred to keep him at her side. When the trees
were shaken, and the nuts lay thick upon the
ground, she offered him her basket to hold his
portion of the spoils it received hers also, and
many time / saw their hands meet, in their
haste to fill it. / watched them till / could
not endure it longer; my heart seemed torn
and gnawed by some hidden monster; and,
turning away, busted myself in gathering up
the fruit. When l next looked, they were sit
ting a little apart he had woven a garland of
the red and yellow leaves, and laid it over her
brown ringlets Wild with jealousy, yet could
not deny that she was lovely; and with what
pang of despair pictured to myself the way
in which he must feel her beauty! shudder
now to think of the lawless feelings that took
possession of my soul. If with one word l
could have blasted her loneliness, thrown her
SCARED and blighted at his feet, would glad |
" have done it. Alas, Sophy 1 need not |
have envied your brief triumph but few weeks
passed before your blue eyes closed on earthly |
prospects, and the coffin-lid shut you forever |
from the gaze of man.
We walked home more soberly and quietly |
than we had come; for me, all the glory had |
vanished from the autumn forest and the au-
tumn sky. One by one, the girls turned to |
their several homes, and Louis walked alone |
with me. Little was said on either side; my |
heart was full. longed to be far away, where |
/ could pour out, unseen, the grief that almost |
choked me. But Louis would not leave me ;
he kept at my side when we reached the house,
called me back as l was about to seek my
own room. With mixture of kindness and
authority which in him l never could resist, he |
babe me come and sit by him.
Oh, that one short moment How often /
have lived it over again Through how many
nights have lain with closed eyes, and dream
ed of it till it grew real and present to my
mind. Yet there was little to recall-a look,
few whispered words, and / knew myself be-
loved! There are raptures in life worth an
eternity of suffering-there is bliss of which
no ater-torture can efface the memory. Dearly
as have paid for my short season of delight, l
would not, if l could, consign it to oblivion.
No; welcome all the agony of recollection,
rather than should lose its infinite joys.
When we met at the teatable, hardly dared
raise my eyes to his. Afterward, gaining cour.
r L. o,I Cd