Daily Nashville patriot. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1857-1858, 1857-07-24
From the Huntsville Independent.

SATURDAY NIGHT June 81, 1857.
DEAR IEDEPKNDENT:-I have just read "GOldcn
Memories" Thy Edward Goodwin, whom I am de-
LIGHTED to fndis my favorite Mr. ''Schetky," whose
chaste criticisms and sketches have so much inter-
ested me his winter.) How beautiful, yet how
nournfully touching they Pm half afraid
shall love him if he writes many more such sweet
things How he carried my heart along with him
TO the dim old woods, the moss grown rocks and
silyery streams of my childhood Brief though
It was there are some few violet-scented spots in
it. that memory will keep fresh and green forever.
/ remember One-a golden morning 10 June
when was only five years old. Standing by the
broad beautiful Ohio, the waves came quiveIing
and dancing, as it seemed to my childish fancy,
from the bright blue-arched sky above and curled
and foamed around iairy-like little schooner that
lay anchored far out in the clear CLASSY waters
hecting her delicate spaTs and rigging as In mir
ror. O. how lovely it was! the dark OVerhanging
trees ringing the messy rocks and banks gay with
ana blossoms, where the bright-winged
birds were singing and futtering in perfect costa
cy Of ioy making the fresh, cool breeze, that sport
ed and tossed my dark ringlets, fhrl and Vibrate
with their sweet glad gushing music. sometimes
think the spirit of pOesy was born in my young
heart then, as 1 stood witAsRlasped hands and soul
all thrilling with emotion linking in rich draughts
of beauty from the glorious scenery around me.
That is truly golden memory to me; and though
many dark one has interviewed since then, it still
CLOVIS bright, pure and beautiful as ever
And just here memory holds up another charm
ing picture before me. 1t is of gliding down this
beauteous stream, THAT think has no parallel on
EARTH unless it be the Rhine, the GLORIOUS Rhine"
Of which Byron sings sweetly,) at a later period
of the year, in an open boat when the magnificent
forests first began to bow the gorgeous tints or
Autumn, and landing at the celebrated ''cave-in-
rock" below Sbawneetown, on the Illinois side OF
the river. Never shall forget its wild romantic
appearance, with rs huge rocky cliffs and lofty
trees the fitting AIDE, ieseeEned to me for wiz
yards, witches-hendts and 9sbbers, aud filed with
the bones of b tdered victims n being consd-
cred too young to penetrate it, steries, l anus
ed myself with Fauhling abb the rocks and trees
surrounding it, and Nondering az the strange color
of the water trick Tn al inning little pools
around their root e-told me il was caus-
ed by the copper Astounding there, bat
have since seeRsehalybeate springs, and
must have same. But let that be
may, the Sc Fns dnother golden pictui
memory's tas that Times magic pencil 10y
deepens with lovelier tints.
| am glad Mr.. Goodwin is writinR.s romance. l
shall wait impatiently for it. DIV it will be
beautiful, and what prekY name, toO-"Lilly
Whiten / do love romances (but don't you tell
nv Rev. friends in H thaA) | often wish
could write Ape; but as my friend, Dr. Hus--
There, badiked to have told his Dame, said the
other day, "Your forte lies in nhXIne." Wonder
if couldn't write a IabLeagg do you think
about it, Mr.. Junior, mean? Mr. Senior, I
don't mean a word for him. Would you believe
that he was in the city two whole days. and never
mad enc a call? Now, isn't that pretty treatment
for a fTiendl
But l am forgetting the tableau. Well, what
shall it be- real or faacful? Or real hear you
exclaim, by all means real. But somebody might
recognize it? What if they do? Hasn't any
body right to paint pictures, if they, he, or
she, can? Aye, there's the rubg Can l do
It? ] don't know. have never tried. But my
little sauctum looks 80 dull and gloomy tonight
within, and the rain is pouring down without in
such perfect deluge, that almost wish pos
sessed the magcians art, be it black or white, to
raise the past, aud bid it live and glow in all its
bright and beautiful reality before me. And lo at
my wish they come pure breathing forms of youth
and innocence, and group themselves gracefully
around me. Be still, my thrObbing heart, what
seest thou? soft sweet dewy eve in May, pleas
ant well filed with smiling faces, all turned
eagerly toward small group just entering. Two
only, they advance in front Of the company,
seem to arrest attention. One, tall, dark-broWed
man, whose fierce, stormy passions are strongly
marked on every hueament of face otherwise
handsome-a sleeping panther, cruel and yindic-
tive, yet yelled like the thunder cloud with sun
beam, as he looked upon the pale, childish trembler
at his side-and she, o, it makes my heart ache to
her robed in purest white, the bridal veil float
ing like a white mist around her, and paler than
the orange wreath that clasped her fair young brow.
A simple child she was-scarce fourteen summer
suns had shed their blossoms on her path-yet
there she stands, like white trembling dove with.
inthe falcons grasp, about to wed one with whom
her pure young heart can never md communion;
yet as her soft grey eyes tmidly meet your won
dering plying glance, you read the martyrs holy
light within their liquid depths; and her icy hand
Is clasped in his, she buries with low convul-
sive sob her loves young dream forever. Was
that sacrifice appreciated? Let-et her blighted
heart and mournful life reply
But this is too sad picture is it not dear friend?
Well, blame this dismal night, and don't read it
till you feel sad and lonely your little friend
does just now.
But have surely been dreaming, for there is
the fairy clock once told you about, striking
eleven, and ust beginning its low spirit song
10 soothe and cheer me- the rain still falling like
cataract and the night dark Erebus, and
beside, It's Saturday night, bonnie mutt, mon ami,
and pleasant dreams TO you.
Tout vous, CLARA.