Thibodaux minerva. [volume] (Thibodaux, La.) 18??-1858, 1855-12-22
All is Well.

The following exquisite gem is worth reprint
ing and preserving. We doubt if the whole
range of English or any other literature can
furnish anything more simply beautiful-more
purely eloquent:
"Twelve o'clock at night and ais well."
False prophet et!-Still and statute like, at
yonder window, stands the wife. The clock has
told the small hours yet her face is prest close
ly against the window pane, striving in vain,
with straining eye to pierce the darkness. She
sees nothing, she hears nothing-but the beat
ing of her own heart. Now she takes her seat,
opens bible, and seeks from it what comfort
she may, while tears blister the pages. Then
she clasps her hands, and her lips are tremulous
with mute supplication. Hist! there is an un-
steady step in the hall; she knows it! many
times, and oft it has tread on her very heart
strings. She glides down gently to meet the
wanderer. He falls heavily against her, and,
in maudlim tones, pronounces name he had
long since forgotten, 'to honor" Oh all en-
during power of woman's love no reproach,
no upraiding-the light arm passed around that
reeling figure once erect in Goods own image. "
With tender words Of entreaty, which he is
powerless to resist, if he would, she leads him
ILL., H ~ Uut tAC AVpCtAuOA VI d "OUdUNu ouCu
vigils 1t is the perforance of VOW, with a
heroism and patient endurance too common and
every day to be chronicled on earth too holy
and heavenly to pass unnoticed by the "regis-
tering angel" above.
"Al's wel.'
False prophet!-In yonder luxurious room
sits one whose curse it was, to be fair as dream
of Eden. Time was, when those clear eyes
looked lovingly into mothers face-when a
kind loving father laid his trembling hand, with
a blessing, on that sunny head-when brothers
and sisters voices blendid with her own in
where are they no,o! Are there none to say to
the repenting Magdalen-" neither do con-
demn thee-go, and sin no more!' Must the
gilded fetter continue to bind the soul that
loathes it, because man is less merciful than
God2
"Aps wen.r
False prophet-There lies the dead orphan.
In all the length and breadth Of the green earth
there was found no sheltering nest where the
lonely dove could fold its wings when the parent
bird had flown. The brooding wing was gone,
that covered it from the cold winds of neglect
and unkindness. Love was its life; and so-it
dropped!
False prophet Sin walks the earth in
purRe and fine linen /; honest poverty, with tear
bed9wed face, hungers and shivers, and thirsts,
'swhile the publican stands afar Oft" The
widow pleads in vain to the ermined judge for
''justice )" and, unpunished of Heauen, the
human tiger crouches in his lair, and springs
upon his helpless prey.
'AB's we'll"
All, yes, all is well, for He who "seeth the
end from the beginning holds ereniy the
scales of justice. "Diues shall get beg of Laza-
rus" Every human tear is counted. They
patient enduring disciple? When the clear,
broad light of eternity shines upon lifes crooked
paths, we shall see the snares and pitfalls from
which our hedge Of thorns has fenced as in
and, in ou1 full grown faith, we shall ezulttngly
say" Father! not as viii, but as Thou
wilt ~ FANNY FERN.