Nashville patriot. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1858-1860, 1858-05-29

into the deep blue heavens with reverence
and childish trust. These were jules teachers:
these the voices which her mother promised
should direct her; she learned from them that
the necklace of pearls still clasped her neck,
but she could not see it.
The birds taught her to sing. and the flow
ers revealed to her the powers of weaving her
thoughts into verse; her voice would gush
out into melodies so wonderfully sweet and
rare that the old aunt would pause to listen,
and ask in wonder where Julie learned her
songs, Julie would reply that the spirits OF
the earth and air taught her, but she promised
never to reveal the secret. The invariable
answer to her question at length alarmed the
good woman; she sent for her confes;or to
bring holy water to sprinkle on the child
The priest was a good and learned man; he
questioned Julie, and listened to her singing;
he saw she was gifted with singular and I'M
common talents, and proposed to teach her to
read and write. and to place her under the
care of the capeL Beister. to cultivate her Won
derful voice. The aunt readily assented. and
Julie, in spite of her entreaties, was obliged
to yield to the discipline of school, and study
hours Now she had but one day in the week
for her wandering: and then like bird let
loose, she would fly to her favorite haunts,
and refresh her wearied mind. And here. too,
Julie learned patience and obedience; the
voices she loved whispered to her consolation;
accomplishing the burdens sent by her Heav-
emily Father.
Julie performed her tasks cheerfully, and
made great progress in her studies. She
could not SO readily follow the instructions
of the music master; it was impossible for her
to forget the bird voices and songs of the
flowers; her soul was filled with harmonies
heard in the forest and on the mountain tops;
and what to her was the most perfect orches-
ira of instruments or choir of voices?
Julie had not forgotten her father; she
longed and yearned to behold him again
Years had passed and nothing had been heard
of him; inquiry had been made for him in
vain. Julie had asked the winds, the waves,
the trees, flowers, birds, to tell her of her
father; they answered her, it was impossible
to reveal the future; that life was unfolded
day by day, and its evil as its good was
enough for the passing hour
Julie was now a child no longer; fifteen
summers had deepened the shadows of her
eyes. and darkened to chestnut brown the
golden curls, childhood's rosy cheek had pal
| ed, and the mouth was less perfectly rounded,
but more tremulOus in its curves.
One day as Julie wandered among the ruins
| of StOlzenfels, party of young meen met
! her; one of them stood before her as if struck
with wonder and establishment, exclaiming,
! as he lifted his hat: "The very face of the
| sought" Julie knew little of the ways of
| the world but she felt embarrassed at the
| words and fixed gaze of the young man; she
turned and fled down the hill, not knowing
why she was so agitated and frightened. Re-
turning home she related her adventure TO
| the old aunt. who, after some reflection, said
the young man might refer to some picture
painted by Roemmer, jules father, as she
remembered he frequently painted his wife's
face in his pictures, and Julie was now the
very image of her mother. At evening Julie
stood in the cottage door; her thoughts were
with her father; yearning desire To know
more of him filled her soul; suddenly strange
voice greeted her; she turned and saw the
stranger from whose gaze she had fled in the
morning. With a cry of delight she exclaim-
ed, s.Oh, sir, tell me of the picture; was it
my fathCr's?" Surprised at such greeting
the young man looked at her a moment in
silence, then said Il came to beg your par
don for my insulting rudeness this morning
/ have in my possession a picture of young
girl at spinning wheel; the face is so true
a likeness of your own that on suddenly
meeting you this morning, | forgot everything
in the surprise and pleasure of having found
the original
But who was the artist" interrupted Julie
'The artists name is Roemmer.;
'My father,'' exclaimed Julie. 'Oh, where
was it painted? where did you find it?"
IL bought it year SINCE" returned the
young man, Eat Baden. The picture was
exhibited at booksellers; | was told the
artist needed money. | afterward endeavored
to find him, but he had removed to another
lodging, and no one seemed TO know where he
was
ga year ago; then my father lives! Poor,
did you say? Ny father? Oh, where shall L
seek him?'
The old lady now appeared and having
heard all the etr anger sald OF tho picture ex-
planned to him the cause of jules agitation;
he offered to go in search of the artist, to do
anything in his power to aid them. Julie
thanked him, but said if her father lived she
would find him; that she alone could seek
him. When the stranger departed, she smiled
sadly as she said farewell; she knew at his
second coming she should be far away, for
even then she determined to depart at day
break, secretly and alone. and search through
the world till she found her father.
-Four months after this, in that quarter of
the city of Dresden inhabited by the poor and
wretched, in an attic room, sat an old man
and young girl. The naked and broken walls
were concealed by sketches on panel aud
canvass; an easel stood before the shabby
window, on which was an unfinished painting
of Psyche opening the fatal casket of Pro-
serpine, when returning from Hades. The
girl reclining at the feet of the old man might
the canvass; her pale, eXquisitely moulded
face unearthly in its beauty, like that of
Psyche. telling of long suffering, weary
watchings, and patient endurance. But now
the soul had overcome all obstacles, and from
every feature bcamed love, pure unselish love.
Julie had found her father. In these
brief months she had known the bitterness of
disappointment, had endured scorn, jeers, in
suit and cruel Indifference; had been stung by
fOrOOttpn
when at last he was found. In that wretched
dwelling she found her father, alone, forsaken,
ill, bereft of reason. She had watched over
him day and night, tended him as only a
loving woman can minister to sorrow and
suffering. and at length he recovered TO find
the guardian angel by his side was his own
Julie, his long neglected, almost forgotten
child. The star of his loved wife, seemed to
have returned from the land of the blest to
lift his soul from the gloom and darkness of
years. Gradually strength returned to the
artist and now that we see them in their
humble dwelling, he has left his bed for the
first time since jules coming. Well might
her face beam with love and hope!
"Tell me, Julie" said the artist, after
long silence, "by what means do we exist?
You must be very poor, my child. Does
some fairy provide all these comforts"
''Yes, dearest father, a fairy. VIII You
see herr" and she brought lutte which she
had constructed in her wanderings. Fairy
and often go into the street where gay peo-
pie live. aud we often fill our box with silver
groschen from their purses. You never heard
me sing; may | sing TO you to-day"
"Sing my darling; / ask no greater hap
piness than to listen to your sweet voice"
Julie sang. She told of her solitary child
hood, of the angel voices that consoled her,
of the beautiful world revealed her of yearn-
in, for harf nth pf her