The Athens post. [volume] (Athens, Tenn.) 1848-1917, 1857-08-07
ANNIE GRAY.
A BEAUTIFUL SKETCH.

| OuC hho q NhhooahS gu, uCNcE was OHt
more so. Her home was in the opening of a
gorge of the mountain where the rayine
spreads into a valley, not very wide, watered
by stream that dashed wildly over the rocks
a little farther up. The broad, low cottage
of the Widow Grey (as will call her, by
your leave, although need not say use n
fictitious name) was concealed from view in
the daytime by dense mass OF trees and
shrubbery, except on one side, where the
lawn sloped down to the bank of the creek
Here were usually moOred two or three little
skiffs. which might easily be forced up the
rapids quite into the mountain gorge, and
which were often seen bearing Annie and her
brother down the current, returning from
some expedition on the hills.
Had you passed along the road which
crossed the mouth of the ravine below the
cottage, you would not have suspected that Il
house was in the thicket above you, uAless il
had been in the evening, and you saw the
CLEAN of the light, and paused, as ! often
paused, TO let your horse drink at the edge of
the broad creek; and then, perhaps, you might
have heard song floating out of the dark
wood; and if you rode on till midnight, it
would linger in your ears, and you would
fancy you had heard spirit.
That man must have had a hard heart that
did not love Annie Grey. She was the i'm
personation of loveliness. never could de-
scribe face or form; do not remember
friends by their features, and have not the
remotest idea of the color of their eyes or
hair, in nine cases out of ten. But do re-
member her with distinct memory. She was
tall; that is, rather above the medium height,
and slender, but gracefully and beautifully
shaped. Every motion was natural and un-
affected, and her footstep was as light as her
Annie Gruy The music of her laughter
rings from out the lonesome years like the
meodious carol of bird in the arches of a
ruined temple! Her eye was dark, quick rs
sunshine in its changes, and full of unspoken
poetry. You might read all manner otrbeau-
| tifu fancies and holy thoughts there. But
inger too long on this description of her.
| Her brother was fine fellow, a year or two
older than she, and one of the merriest boys
in all the country. He loved his sister, too,
as have before remarked; love has n reflect
ing force which marks the lovely.
am completely lost in whirlwind of
memories, now that return TO those days
and scenes. There were thousand incidents
of my early life that are brought wildly be-
fore me the moment recall the old cottage
in the glen and its beloved inmates. How
startling does the trite remark, that we live
in changing world, recur to our thoughts
every day. In fact, il cannot become trite.
The very stars that we worship as change
less sometimes fall, and the eyes that we
worship with more of devotion than the stars
grow dim, and the hearts that we fancy are
imnutabe change mournfully There is
nothing immutabe but God. 1t is the atiri-
butte of Deity which includes all Sthers, and to
which mortals do homage because they can
not comprehend it.
A score Of years has removed the cottage
from the earth, and its inhabitants have sep
arated here--have met again up yonder!-
One by one, their lips murmuring hymns and
4 II. L., foIdnd tnuath-
er, the friends of my younger days have
passed away, and but few remain of all that
company.
Annie Grey died thus: One glorious sum-
mer evening, when the moon was in its full,
she and Ned had been stroIiDg up the noun
tain side, and coming down together, had
nearly reached their boat as twilight gathered
around them. 10th to return from the for
est, she bade Ned push the little skiff almost
under the fall; and standing on a rock in the
very middle of the water, she shook her tiny
fist at The cataract, and held mock conver-
sation with it.
Returning from days shooting on the
mountaips, saw her on the pedestal before
| was seen, ard throwing myself down on the
ground, watched her with admiring eyes,
Undine herself was moi more beautiful. She
talked to the water as to an old familiar
friend; and in truth, if there be sprtes and
ouphes, they must have loved her. Her voice
was clearer than that of the stream, and when
she laughed, as she at length did, at some I'd
reply she imagined the fall TO make, the old
arches of the forest and The raviDe gave back
musical echo, so that starled'to my feet
and listened to 1t as TO the voice of fairies
indeed.
But cry Of half terror and half laughter
startled me, and, springng down the bank, |
saw her single instsnt as she disappeared in
the water. Her footing had proved insecure,
and she slipped from the rock into the en-
brace of the stream she loved.
Ii was the work Of an instant TO spring out
TO her, and swim but few strokes TO the
shore, aud she was not particle frightened
by the occurrence. On the contrary, the
woods rang with her uncomfortable laughter
as soon as she was on the shore.
/ walked in that same forest two years ago,
and heard again the music of that ringing
laughter through the long halls Of time,
made scarcely more melodious by its passage
,l.o,ch tba cnrridnrs of vears