The Ashland union. [volume] (Ashland, Ashland County, Ohio) 1854-1868, 1856-07-30

| with none to breathe them upon, and
only uttering them upon the low grassy
mound where slept the gentle being who
had given him life.
Once indeed his spirit thought it had
found its mate. There fitted into the
brilliant saloons Of fashion radiant
young creature, who seemed the incarna-
tion of poets dream, and whose spell
soon bound the youthful! Reuben. But
ere many months, the charm wes broken.
She proved but gay coquette, and af-
ter toying with many hearts, finally sur
rendered to wriDkled ago, bartering her
self tor gold. Reuben had believed he
loved her, but when the dream was SO
rudely broken, he found his heart was
fetterless-he had loved not her, but the
creation of his own soul whom he had
fancied was embodied there. For a
time, indeed, he scorned the other sex,
but ere long the vision of his own sweet
mother came to him in such vivid light,
that he felt he stained himself with sin
to think even harshly of those to whom
she was bound by the ties of sisterhood,
and he said within himself, I will seek
hor counter part, and finding it, be hap
py. So, Lord Burleigh-like, he went
about as travelling artist, and in the
wild or beautiful of nature, as ehanced
the scene, his spirit drank in peace, and
the angel in his heart sang dearer and
more th.iilingly.
Such was he, who, in the.littlo church
of Glen, had watched SO closely its frail
Lily. Her loveliness ever bewitchingly
delicate was enhanced by the paleness Of
convalesconce, and she seemed to the
young man like one of those sainted
ones of whom he used to dream when
in boyish sorrow he nestled on the couch
where his mothers spirit had departed.
There was no guile he felt, in those
heavenly eyes, no mocking taunt would
ever slug from lips like hers-nay, there
was a purity Of soul visible in her very
mien.
"Who is she2" asked he, as he walk
ed home with the inn-kesper; "who is
that fair young creature who seems the
adopted child of the church ? she walks
before us with the cid pastor"
She has another name, bat We only
call her Lily, or the Lily of the Glen,
homeless girl now, without a relative on
earth, and yet she will never want for
anything, for humble as We are, ne will
ever make room for her by our heurths
aud in our hearts, for she is an angel
whom We cannot entertain without
blessingt" And he forthwith told her
simple story.
The young man shut himself in his
room and unused upon her. In his wild
est dreams he had fancied nothing earth
ly so ethereal, and be felt that ooald he
but clasp that fragile Lily to his heart,
its low murmuring means would be
hushed forever.
The sunset flooded the Glen with brill
fancy as he stole forth again, and long
ing for silent communion with the human
foweret who had entranced his soul, he
turned from the pleasant village street
and followed the banks of little stream
that went singing ulong as though each
wave were melody. Whittier it led he
knew not, but keeping the worn path, he
found himself ere long opposite little
grave yard, whose monuments had moth
ing to arrest attention, but whose quiet
beauty entranced one at glance. Reu-
ben leaned with folded hands on the
white stile and was soon lost in fresh
thought. Memory carried him back to
the day his mother died, and he saw
himself again in childish grief, bending,
half in wonder, half in awe, over the
open grave, and then kissing white
rosebud from a neighboring bush and
casting it on the coffin, and then he
thought of the after visits he had p id it
when it was green and fowery and re-
mem bered how many times he had wish
ed he could have slept beside her. Tears
streamed down his cheeks as he leaned
there; those holy tears which come un-
hidden to wash the heart of the dust
that has gathered on its beauty.
Suddenly he started. A low, sweet
strain fitted by on .he evening breeze
and to his highly wrought feelings it
seemed at first like the angel voice of
her he mourned But he soon rallied
himself, and listening closely, discerned
that it came from locust grove in a
distant corner of the yard, and he felt
intuitiyely it was the night hymn of the
Lily sung over the grave of her buried
love.
He forbore to disturb the solemnity
of the spot by seeking the acquaintance
he desired, and SO turned from the stile,
and passing on, threw himself on bank
of violets beside the stream, and was
soon lost in delicious revery.
GA beautiful spring night, sir" said
a mild voice, soon, and startling up, the
Young man found himself face to face
with the aged pastor, on whose arm
leaned the fair young mourner.
You are stranger, sir, 1 take it,
here T noticed YOU in church and