Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1859-02-03

rescue beauty, some of those famous wales
and grottos of old, where Apollo and the
Muses. were wont to speudin gentle dalliance,
the sultry noon tide hours, and through which
they wandered in the cool evening-tiue. AT
such times, we can almost fancy some Naiad
of the neighboring brook, singing, as she
tripped lightly about the grave, the Peri's
song for AL IIassan's daughter.
"Oh fair as the flowers su close to thee growing,
How light was thy heart, till loves witchery came,
Like the wind of the south, DER sumner lutte
blowing,
And hushed ali its music, and withered its frame"
1t was now winter, and the signing of the
wind through the leahess branches of the
trees, sounded like requiem for the depart
ed. The shades of evening were falling a.
round, when there was heard among the dry
leaves, the sound of approaching footsteps.
The gate of the enclosure was opened, and
a person who seemed familiar with the place,
entered. His form was bent, grief had worn
deep furrows on his cheek, and disease had
written its gbastly characters upon his fea-
lures. Despite his altered appearance there
was little difficulty in recognizing him as
Harry Wentworth. Approaching Alice
Vernon's grave he seemed for time over
whelmed BY the food Of recollections that
came rushing upon him; joy, grief and love
were sweeping in wild torrent verhis soul.
To those who would fully understand his
feelings, we would say in the beautiful words
of Irving: "Go to the grave of buried love
and mediate. There settle the account with
thy conscience for every past benefit unre-
quited-every past endearment unregarded
of that departed being who can never, never,
never return to be soothed by thy contrition.
If thou art child, aud hast ever added a
sorrow to the soul, or furrow to the silver
ed brow of an ahectionate pareut-if thou
art husband, and hast ever caused the fond
bosom that ventured its whole happiness in
thy arms, to doubt one moment of thy kind
ness or thy truth-if thou art friend, aud
hast ever wronged in thought, word or deed,
the spirit that generously confded in thee
if thou art lover, and hast ever given one
unmerited papg to that true heart which now
lies cold and still beneath thy feet then
be sure that every unkind~ look, every un-
gracious word, every ungentle action, will
come thronging back upon thy memory, and
knocking dolefully atthy soul-then be sure
that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repent
ant on the grave, and utter the unheard
groan, and pour the unavailing tear; more
deep, more bitter, because unheard and un-
availing."
What an eventful life did Wentworth live
again, in those few moments that he stood
by Alice Vernon's grave! His mind reVer-
ted to the past, and he saw that there had
been spent the brightest, and the darkest
moments of his life. The time when he
had first visited the spot, and one grave only
was there and the time when another had
been made, and his "heart had beer crush
ed in the closing of its portal" AS he
looked forward into the future, it did not
require "the raptured ken of prophecy" to
tell him that yet another grave would soon
be there, side by side with hers. Approach
ing the grave, he knelt silently upon it, and
seemed to hold communion with the spirit
of the dead.
"Alice 10
Thy lover kueels upon thy yerdant grave,
And calls upon thy name The breeze that
blows
On his wan cheek, will soon sweep over him
In solemn music, q funeral dirge,
Wild and most sorrowful. Now lest he stands,
The ghost of what he was, and the cold dew
Which bathes his aching temples gives sure
omen
OF speedy dissolution. Alice, soor
Thy love will lay his pallid check to thine,
And sweetly will he sleep with thee in death"