Clarksville chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1857-1865, 1858-11-05
From the Sunday Delta.
LUTA som ERS.
BY n. cASovA HARRIss

Sweet Luta, as look upon thy picture,
crowned With dreamy beauty, memory
steals back into the sacred past, and pnnses
to weep. All thy beauty, all thy purity
all thy holy worth come up to me, and
am shrouded in mist of tears.
I have seen the flowers that bloom above
thy grave, and one of them l have placed
between the leaves of thy favorite book.
There it remains, and there it will remain
until I, too, am laid sadly away to sleep
the long sleep that knows no waking. No
waking, did I say? All but there is an
Weakening. There is holier, happier
aud brighter existence than this. There
the stern chain of earth-reality will not
bind down the longing spirit There the
mystery Of the morning stars is known !
There the great Eternal is unvailed, and
that God whom we have worshipcd on this
earth with holy awe, will meet us with
love But to the story.
Luta Somers was our village pride. As
good as she was beautiful, she won the
love of all who knew her. Was person
needy-Luta was Charity. Was person
sick-Luta was Mercy. The birds sang
their sweetest songs when she was near
The flowers exhaled their richest perfumes
when she passed by. The down -trodden
grass raised up its tiny arms to clasp her
flowing drapery. A kind word and smile
we're ready for all Luta knew the value
Of these She knew that they are some
Zines more precious than gold. My
brothers, let us give kind words and cheer
ing smiles, By the universal law Of love,
every man demands them of me as his
due but too often give them grudging-
lv. Let us live more from the inner and
better man, and less from the outer and
selfish Luta was not always the good,
the kind, the loved being she was now
Her heart had not always been casket Of
mercy, truth and love.
Well do ! remember the first time that
saw her 1t was May day, and Luta was
the Queen, l stopped my jaded horse
(for l had ridden long and far) and gazed
on that bright scene, and that fair young
girl, until my soul murmured its thanks
10 God for so much beauty and for the JOY
of existence. 1t is said that there ar,
none of us who have not some fault, ant
| believe that it is true. And what wa'
Luta's fault? All, my friend, one tina
you, too, may possess, and warn yol
against it-vanity. Yes, Luta had growr
vain of her beauty, and had stopped t.
soil her fair fame by being that least Low
able of all womankind, a coquette, A
vet the number of her triumphs had beer
limited There were but five young mel
in the village upon whom she would ieigr
TO exert her charms, and four Of these ha,
been brought to her feet. The fifth, dea
reader, was the humble writer of this lit
tie story, and his heart was enthralle
elsewhere, or it might have succumbed I
her wondrous beauty, Two of these fou
young men had long been at eumity whe
the writer first took up his abode in tn
village. One of these two was her favor
ed suitor.
Fri Redclife was indeed worthy he
love, aud would have made her goo
and kind husband, Why is it that woma
will play with and deceive an honest an
generous man, when he bows low
alteration to her charms? Young ladie
be less false to yourselves; for such COZ
duct can never purchase anything b,
misery. Quite we'll do you know that Il
pleasure you receive from your grati6'
vanity is eyanesceut as the mist YC
soon tire of your victim, and long f
ohange--for the excitement of new CO.
quest--and in it you forget Of it ev
troubled you at all) the misery that yC
have inflicted upon some generous spir
One evening a small party was given
honor of the birthday of Miss Lucret
b., at which were present, among Other
Luta Erl Redelife, his rival, Geor
Thornton, and myself
In the country, people have better al
truer IDEAS Of the laws of health than
of the city seem to have, aud so at eley
o'clock after a pleasant dance, the COZ
Pauy broke up to 20 home. Luta,
some reason or other. had been particul.