Litchfield enquirer., 1857-08-06

ilS lol ullCle LF"lil was q IuanuIacLurer, anC had grown rich from his business. The mil was some half a mile distant from the home | stead, and had t not been for the roaring Q the water, no one would have guessed that il l was there, so orderly and methodical were al | it's arrangements, aud so watchfu was uncle Erwin in the selection of his artizans, it seemed but school for industry, where all were hap py and anxious to excel No sportsman had ever dared to intrude upon the grounds o Happy Valley, and Uncle Erwin had early planted wild cherry-trces to attract the birds and squirrels to its neighborhood. The trees were therefore full of song, and from limb tc limb, chased the squirrels. So tame were they l had seen them skipping through the long hall and vanishing at the open door beyond the parlor. A strange, grotesque stack of build ings was the homestead. 1 had heard uncle Erwin say he had added a wing at the birth of each child It was full of crooked passages, and dark closets, and odd-shaped rooms. Nev- CT was such place to play hide-and-seek, and never were so many hnge chests with invisible locks, where we looked for imaginary Geneve- ras or hid ourselves, never fearing but our sharp voices and hard fists could awake the old domestcs, who had charge of our marau- ding adventures. When the water was high at the dam, the whole house vibrated from the shock of its fall over the precipice, and ever in Lans apartments, the windows shook with trcmulous, uneasy motion. l love to hear it, she said. At midnight, sometimes wake and listen to its chant. It reminds me of hu. man breasts that futter with ceaselcss long ing. It reminds me of life that goes hurrying on soon to be lest in the dark river and afar I catch the sheen of it's waters, and bcthink me of the celestial fountain that howeth out from beneath the throne' Thus would she talk at times, though her mind loved to dwell amidst fe's beauties, feeling tAe heavens were no fuller of stars than the earth of flowers It was model family. The father brought to bear upon it the force of well-stocked mind, and thoroughly subdued and expansive intel lect. He was the head, and his will was the law of the household yet no one ever thought to be dissatisfied, or wished to disobey Wat punshments he inflicted for dereliction of duty l do not remember, save that in one instance, a child was forbidden to speak to him, and this recollection of her wo-begone countenance, cannot forget. His nature was poetical, and
 living somewhat secluded life, he dreaded for his children contact with the world. With the most critical care he selected the books they read and watched over every trait of character they developed He made their home happy from judicons arrangements of work and pastmc. The children desired not to leave it and to be near their father, and listen to his instruction was the great happi- ness of their lives. And Lillian, as I have said, was his favorite daughter She partook more of his own nature than the other chil- dren They were like their mother, kind, af- fectionate and sensible-with less, however, of his poetic and philosophical temperament. Aunt Anna was sample of domes ic, loving mother, and she, too, appreciated music, flow CTS, and the fine arts but still she was not Liian or the companion for uncle Erwin's soul that Lillian Was To sit with her at the edge of the woods, when twilight mantlcd the tlce-tops, or te saunter home with her from his office, was his delight, and she knew it, and Strove to anticipate his every wish and thought regarding her.
 was sixteen years of age-she ninetccn-I boy-she q woman and yet was in love, passionately in love with my cousin Lillian. How many nights these twenty years gone now, have l started from my dreams, and scarcely been able to convince m, self she was not standing beside me and when has been the day that her image has been absent from my memory? And yet thought, boy that I was, that fathomed the depth of my feelings for her. and loved her only as an older sister built no castles wherein l hoped to place her as my own and yet, there was not plan for the future did not connect with her, and to which she was not the sun, the anchor and the end. My uncle, thought, did not fancy me, and at times my jealous mind imagined him dictrustfnl of my character. l felt, at least, he did not understand my nature tho he did, and Lillian knew it.. By her, however, my every impulse was comprehended be. tween us there was no insincerity of thought or action it was as natural for her to listen to the relating of my troubles as though she had been my mother. She dd not do it in pat rouizlng, sympathetic manner, nor with a mel ancholy, morbid assimilation but with the calm, firm dignity of one who knew the dis ease aud the remedies it required. Wherein l was ambitious, she stimulated my ambition to excel in holy relations. My melancholy was not thing of her jest, but of her deliberate anxious thought. How to remove it, wa: elements of my nature, she lent her vision and her love. And for her, I was tht ploddiuy student, the aspiring scholar drew little sketch of her, and hung it in my room. If my mind Jagged before its task, raised my eyes to it, and caught new inspira tion and all the time I deemed I was loving her only as a sister. But day was coming to test the depth and the real nature of tba
 anectlon-an hour that should wiring my heart with bitter agony, and kindle stormy and an gry fires therein. An Lillian's mound ha
 long. long been lowering to the level earth
 and she died, too, and never knew how lovet her.
 Henry Austin was a teacher at Swansbur, Seminary. I could net give reason for it
 and vet from my first entrance to the school. had conceived for him strong, lasting dislike
 My mind instinctiyely shrunk from contac