Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1859-04-06
For the Spirit, Of she Age.
The Deserted Home

Twas the sweetest spot | ever saw +! As we
rode up to it one bright Spring morning, the
gay sunshine flashing through the green
leaves, and the pleasant winds tanning our
faces, We were met by the busy hum of bees
at their revel amid the fragrant lilacs that
dropped over the old stone wslf. We tried
the little wicket gate, but oundT It bound fast
by the clustering roses of the zaultifhora. and
the latch was Wreathed with them. W
down, where TIE hhs+ Waafff Was t 5rsteHE s arr bad not
away meath the finger oftime, and catered.
And shall never forget the beautiful scene
that burst upon my view! Yhe fraraework
that once supported the shrabbery, had par
TALLY fallen, and flowers of every hue trailed
on the ground in glorious coaflsion> 1t was
a perfect wilderness of beaatyr The walks
were matted Ger with Hyacinths, Crocus,
Lilies, Roses, of purest white and deepest
crimson, were mingled together: Here and
there a prop stood half uprigAs, and beneath
it bright burdens of buds and blossoms.
Twas like a dream of loyelnessl And Z
gazed, spellbound, with delight A soft, be-
wildering sense of the beautiful swept like a
shining wave over my soul! I felt like I
wanted to gather up the hanging fessoens of
roses and press them to my 5osont tt
seemed as if some gentle angel had passed
dilN SCdGtOlOO ttlCIl"IGIp luuleC OI fiElG! i
trod lightly, for | knew at every step | was
crushing the delicate blossoms beneath my
feet
We stood in the portico. The roof was
f broken through in places, and long tendrils
of the vines hung down and showered their
golden bells about our heads. Near the door
was a little rustic shelf, all covered over with
running moss.
As we rambled On, Isaw some letsers cary
ed on a large weeping willow, whose long,
slender boughs hung down and were entan-
!, gled in the grass. | stopped, and wish diff
f Guilty deciphered the name, "ErnestSae."-
That name awakened in my mind the l~iveliest
= interest. [ sat down on the stone doorstep.
/ and many thoughts came rushing over me-
e There was an air of loneliness-of sadness-I
thought, resting on all. The murmur Of the
> winding river fell upon my ear like a moan
J The merry voices and gay laughter of my
companions, who were strolling on, seemed
like a anoehery. The gentle winds played
softly through the long grass, which gave
forth a low tone, like the loosened strings of
some ruined harp, that strives to breathe out
d the olden melody Of joy; but its notes are
broken and sad, and speak only of noD! /
listened, as If to hear a tale of other days;
and q strange, wild y~earning came over my
soul, to know the story of that Home, for
Home it had once been, and lovely. But the
circle that once gathered around that hearth
'o Somewhere are they now? Alas 1t was
broken and scattered! 1t makes me sad
IN Would my home ever be thus? And, ''Er
no nestine," | thought of her as the sunbeam o
that Home group-a fair, ruby-lipped girl o
seventeen, wild long brown curls clustering
o. about her snowy neck-and eyes in who's
lis depths sparkle love and happiness. / seem
:. ed to hear her CHEEKY voice carolling fortl
y some sweet old song. Some happy hour
OF HaaSt have been spent here. Where is sh
On now? Perhaps sorroao has overshadowe,
II. her with dark broodng wings or Death
!. perhaps for through the paling of that was
"' ted garden, | caught the glimmer of a whit
Sc tombstone.
ert But my party had wearied, and were ca
ling to me to go. Twas with regret, almos
grief, that | left that quiet, lovely place.
felt that | would never see it again an
something seemed to draw me back. As "
wound along the white sandy road, out
lt sight, | could not refrain from casting man
ign a glance behind. The glory of that home
but never knew; bat oft in the springtime, whe
,od l wander out amongst the flowers. I feel
wistful y~earning to see that beautiful sp
lay again, as then | saw it.
on. ESTELLE.