The true Democrat., 1857-03-10
From the Bainoridge Argus. !" Willie and T."
 RY DAISY,
' Memories feeble to retrace Yesterdays immediate flow, Find a dear, familiar face,
 In each hour of long ago.n


 and the fieeting joys that threw
 A moments sparkle o'er our tears
 are passed away, even as those days of old" How melancholy the retrospect Yet I am wanderlng--tor spirit is lowering near me, and its murmurs are breathing of "Nilie and l." and oi the time when Willie and ralnbled over the hillside, careless, happy chidren.- We were playmates; he was an inmate of our home; no matter how he came there but he was not brother; not cousin, but simply Willie"-that was all thought of or cared for, and we played and froicked together as if life were but summers day, and we were thus to ramble on until its close. He may not have felt thus, for he was older, and fur wiser than I, yet Thought he did
 We used to go after hickory nuts and chinca- pms, and whole merry parties sometimes joined us-suii It was always Willie and I-for he used to shake down the nuts where I could plck them up, and when he filled his pockets as full as they could hold he would slip down and silly slide them into my apron remem- Der once he did thus, with some persimmons and how the truant berries told such naughty tales on me. Foolish children that we were not to think of the ugly sahisl and when he quietly emptied them into my apron, 1 gather ed up the corners and pressed them closely to
 
 we scampered homewards came in contact with an ugly root and fell! Oh! how the per- simmons were smashed. Then only think of my white white apron. How Willie laughed, and. he said whisper, "why Daisy, it is such big stain the girls will know where my berries disappeared So mysteriously" He had such joyous laugh could scarcely help joining in, though my eyes were full of tears as 1 looked rneiuly at the dreadful spot on the white sur face upheld to hide my face
 les. 1t was Willie and 1, who used to wan der off on Saturdays and seat ourselves on the soft grass beneath the thick shade of the luxu- riant " Pride of India" which grew abundantlv in our dear old yard. It was large yard, and we stole of to the farthest end, there were no one to aear our wild imagniugs There we used to sit while l listened with such wonder ing interest to the accounts he gave me of the many, many things he had seen in his travels; for Willie had travelled. He was very wise boy and great in my eyes. He had been in steatnboats, and on the great Mississippi! and had been-Ohl l could scarcely follow him in my lmaglnatons rustic that 1 was But be had rambed over those dear New England" homes, and was never weary of hearing them little as ever dreamed of pressing my feet on their green meadows. "All is different now.''
 
 such glowing pictures from dearer lips-but it only made me eager to listen still
 Then in the southern climes be had gather ed from the seashore collection of beautiful shells. How we admired them together! and listened in fancy to the music of the waves that melancholy sound, which through the rapture of his description learned to love, though might never stand in natures grand rotunda, and feel that in that mystic murmur was the voice whose mighty tones reverberated through the glory of the creation morn! He gave me shelis-I have them yet-one which he sad was especially for me- as its form, mark ed with golden zigzag stripes, reminded him of my cnrls. And what do you think after all this? Why, he listened to the eager lninute gave of my only journey-one taken in a car rlage overa monotonous country-and he seem ed as interested as if it had been tales of the wonderful.
 Well! but they multiply! they multiply. They crowd overmy memory, "those tlmes" must culI the brightest or others will weary of what Is so dear to me! There was a never to be for gotten picnic, which, like the "oass in life's desert" looms on the dark back ground of sad der experimentation the fairy booksl How wild grew over them! How devoured all the histories of Ttani's realm eat fairies
 
 laughingly declared, |" 1 was turning to fairv." and begged with such apparent earnestness, that l should begin my entertainments by con verting him into some glorious being superhu- man and capable of doing goodl But I shut my eyes and the phantoms of the past glide slowly along. finger, and then--there is one evening that rises oer my vision and thrills my soul, as when some strains of sweetness recalls the past.
 |. It haunts me still. though many year hath fed Like some wild melody"
 It was winters night, clear and cold, and we were gathered around the hearth, when the glowing coal sparkled in the grate and lent a bright crimson to my cheek. The cold stars were shining without, and the moons silverv trostlng decked the outer night, but the win ters chill did no: penetrate where loe were seat ed, that is, Willie and l." were each on cricket at the feet of that one "dearer than all My head was nestled in her lap and a soft hand gently stroked my hair. Willie held her idle hand, and was gazing with mo into the red coals and thinking-oh! not as 1 AM now!
 There were others in the room. One of my brothers studying at table, with his feet eros sed underneath and his fingers in his ears The faces of merry girls filled up the group, one of them gentler, fairer--she was my only sister was the youngest of all. They were all en- gagged with their books or states, and the soft murmur of their voices did not mar our ouie- tude Suddenly Willie looked up in her face and asked, with radiant lighting of counte- nance, for story. My entreaties were uoicc- Jess but she felt them and smiled Her dark grey eye rested upon us with unutterablc tenderness, then that voice ever musical, fell upon our years in low cadence meant for us alone.
 "A story!" she exclaimed, then listen well, my Daisy, and Willie, do not lose a word"
 "No, indeed, not sylabe!" was Willie's emphatic response. Thus, with breathless ear nestness and dilating eyes we sat upon our crick- cts and felt the dear pressure of her hand, whilst the sweet voice murmured on. It was float ing fancy, from her own brain, that she painted tor us In colors sutlng our youthful imagina tons Spell bound we were. whispered low, Willie It IS true tale, 1 am sure. "Yes, yes!" he replied mischievously, "anything might be true with you"
 Somewhat mortified, turned away. Then when We were both, with parted lips, watching her face, and wondering what would come next, she said: "And-and then the cats turned pale!' Oh! 1 see it now, I hear 1t now--the sudden change that came over Willie's face, and his merry peal of laughter! and we all laughed SO heartily and joyously. It was funny idea, the cats turning pale, and how it banished the hope l had cherished of its being true. Willie gave me an exulting nod. She would not go on--no no, we had broken the thread of her ideas, and stopping our entreaties with kiss, she told us it was time that call little folks were in bed!''
 Have I weared you? Forgive my fancy, it may be weakness-but am sitting by my lone ly ireside and thinking-as have never before My bosom is throbbing, and tears are bend- ing my eyes--volces are singing near me- and tones of melody are echong in my heart. start, and look for shadow on the wall. 1 see through the parted curtain and outinto the light, the white church, in it's green enclosure, where slabs are gleaming through the misty air. Stars are gleaming in the heavens The very same, that twinkled long ago. Oh! Life! Death Eternity. how real thou art!
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