The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1858-09-30

tercOursc with one, whose compan.
ionship, in those years alluded to, was
so pleasant and profitable. With the
exception of her two children, Made.
line Raymond was alone, all alone in
the wide, wide world, and what other
delightful anlicipations may have min.
glcd with the thoughts of the coming
friend, it behoovcs not now to say
Surely, though, she did not expect to
meet in him lover, for such she had
never deemed him in the days of their
former acquaintance and association,
or jtthen the idea Of such IA thing had
ever crossed her mind, it had been i'm.
mediatcIy expelled as vision of glad
ness that must perish in the thinking.
She had waited anXiously for an
other communication. after she had
replied to his letter, but none other
came and he had arrived unheraled,
unannounced, and addressed her at
once in language of the most ychc-
mcnt affection, mingled withrepronch
as il she had not dealt fairly and just
ly with him. She was mystiIicd, be-
wildcred, and knew neither what to
think or say.
Let US leave them for awhile and
turn the volume Of their lives back
wards.
The scene to which you shall be in
troduced, dear reader, shall be u lit
tie village, on the green banks Of II
rapid stream that pours its waters in
TO one Of the tributaries fthc MI hty
Mississippi. 'Tis pretty little town,
with neat white cottages, snugly en-
powered beneath the spreading bran
ches Of naples, locusts and gold-drop.
ping labuynumS, with ilowcly shrubs
and neatly cultivated gardens. 1t is
one Of those sweet and Guict spots on
which the eye loves to lingcr, and yet
there is nothing there to arrest, or riv-
it its gaze, nothing but its calm, peace
tul, rural beauty. Ont y the quiet nest
ling together OF one white-robed
dwelling with another meath the bow.
cring branches Of the shcltcring trees,
and yet no one, not even Il stranger,
could, without IA feeling Of tranquil
delight. look at the little town with its
two main streets crossing each other
at right ang les, and here and there il
path leading across cultivated fields
and blossom-ladcn orchards, to many
a cheerful looking farm house, almost
hidden by its towering weight Of fra
GRANGE.
The Spire Of the village church, and
the belIry Of the academy had, for
years, looked daily at each other from
opposite sides Of the street leading
over the bill to the river and at the
foot of the same hill, before ascending
might be found the main village, with
the scattering cottages | have deS-
cribed a house for the accommodation
Of Travellers, and u store or two, at
which the village bellies obtained their
rustic iincry. 1t was ali out OF the
way place, unknown to the tourist
and the traveller, but none the less
beautiful for all that.
Let Us traverse the street that leads
us up the Hill. and turning abruptly.
pass the Whitc-wallrd, solemn looking
church, with its tall finger pointing
to the starry sky above, and walk
softly on till we front snug little
home buried amid locusts and fruit
trees, whose dropping blossoms fail
like icathcry snow-haIlos over head
and shoulders as we step briSlly and
lightly to one side Of the vine wreath
ed porch, on which the door OF the
front passage opens. Have no fears
ofcycsdroppiny, reader; for if you did
not listen for yourself, | could easily
tell you oil the gcntIy-spollen words
that tall so sWcctly and so softly on
your ear.
TO BE CONTINUED.