The home journal. [volume] (Winchester, Tenn.) 1857-1857, 1857-05-22
From the Jefferson (Ls,) Journal.
THE BRIDAL WINE CUP.
A THRILLING SKETCH.

less Harvey Wood; pledge with wine!
ran through the brilliant crowd.
The beautiful bride grew pale the
decisive hour had come. She PRESSED
her white hands together, and the
leaves Of her bridal wreath tremblcd
on her pure brow; her breath came
quicker, her heart beat wilder.
Yes, Marion, lay aside your scru-
Piles for this once said the Judge, in a
low tone, going towards his daughter;
the company expect it. Do not so Sc
riously infringe on the rules of Ell
quctte; in your own home, act as you
please, but in mine for this once try
and please me-
Every eye was turned towards the
bridal pair. Marion's principles were
well known.
Harvey had been Of late convi.
vialist, and his friends noticed great
change in his manners, the difference
in his habits, and tonight they watch.
ed to see, as they sneeringly said, if he
was tied down to a woman's opinion
so soon. Pouring a trimming beaker,
they held it with prompting smiles to-
wards Marion. She was very pale,
though more composed, and her hand
shook not, as, smiling, she gracefully
accepted the crystal tempter and rails
ed it to her lips: but scarcely had she
done so, when every hand was arrest
ed by her piercing exclamation Of
oh, how terriblep
What is it, cried one and all,
thronging together, for she had slowly
carried the glass at arms length, and
was fxedly regarding it as though it
were some hidcous object.
WATT she answered, while an in
spircd light shone from her dark eyes,
and added, slowly pointing one jewel
ed finger at the sparkling, ruby liquid,
"a sight that beggars all description;
and yet listen, | will paint it for you
if can. 1t is lonely spot; tall noun
tains, crowned with verdure, rise in
awful sublimity around; a river runs
through, and bright flowers grow to
he waters edge. There is a thick
warm mist that the SUN seeks vainly
% pierce. Trees, lofty and beautiful,
waive to the airy motion of the winds;
but there are group of Indians to-
gether; they fit to and fro with some
thing like sorrow OH their brows, and
in the midst lies a manly form; but
his cheeks, how DEATH y--his eyes wild
with the fierce fire of fever! One
friend stands beside him; nay, should
say, knecls; for see! he is pilIowing
that poor head upon his breast.
Genius in ruins! On the high, holy
looking brow! Why should death
mark it, and he SO young! Look how
he throws back the damp curls! see
him clasp his hands! hear his thrilling
shrieks for life! mark how he clutches
at the form Of his companion, implo-
ring to be saved! Oh, hear him call
piteously his fathers name-see him
Irvine his fingers together as he shrieks
for his sister, his only sister, the twin
Of his SOUL weeping for him in his dis
tant native land.
'Seep she exclaimed, while the bri-
lal party shrank back; the untasted
wine trembed in their faltering grasp
and the Judge fell overpowered on his
seat; see! his arms are lifted to Heav.
en-; he prays, D how wildly, for mcr-
cy! Hot fever rushes through his
veins. The friend beside him is weep
ing and awe stricken; the dark men
move silently away, and leave the dy-
ing and living together
There was hush in that princely
party, broken only by what seemed
sob from some manly bo-
som. The bride stood yet upright,
with tears stealing to the outward
edge of her lashes. Her beautiful
arm had lost its tension, and the glass,
with its little troubled red waves,