Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1860-04-11
VII.
VII.
THE PARTED HOUSEHOLD.

SHADOWS
Ileave my sunny childhood here
Oh therefore let me weepl
In the human heart, however depraved,
there is a chord which vibrates sweetly to
the touch Of affection. The child separated
from its home, although that home may be an
humble cottage, and is exchanged for the
marble pavements and fretted ceilings of
wealth, longs still for the cottage; each mi
mute object springs before its mind, even to
the tiny warblers who nestle on the thatch.
Home How sweet the word Though sur
rounded by wealth and beauty, the object of
.Jstes and caresses, the-cynosure of admring
eyes, or the battery which is stormed by the
ceaseless attack of compliments, still we long
for the humble roof and the scenes that were
first impressed on our mind; we mourn for
the variegated scenery that clusters around
the spot Of our nativity And was it strange,
that Alice should long for the old warehouse,
though it was fraught with the memories of
her most sorrowful hours More than all,
she longed to be clasped in the arms of her
tender mother She knew nothing of the ac-
cident which had occurred on the evening of
that day Of humiliation. She knew nothing
at all of her parents, and her affectionate spir-
it longed to commune with theirs.
This wish she expressed to Mrs. Garland,
who at once saw the plausibility Of her de-
sire; but she also was fearful that the child
would lose her way, and be unable tn retrace
her steps TO her new home. The child plea
ded earnestly, however, that the lady herself
would go with her but at length the dandy
son volunteered to be her courtier, and prom
ised to accompany, andsreturn her in safety.
Dressed in costly silk, for Alice had now
become the protege of John Garland, in the
place Of his child who had been taken to the
realms of Light, she issued from the palace
of the editor in company with the aforesaid
Mr.. Frederick Garland. For squares they
walked onward, but Alice knew nothing Of
what the young Adonis was talking, and q
low, Eyes, SIR was the only proof of her at
tention to the brainlcss escort.
'Yaws, my deah T. continued the gent Of
fashion, 1.-THE new dancah at the Academy
does dance divinely, pe'fectly cbawming-dc
you good just to see her. Mr.. Algernon
Fitzgerald and myself contemplate visiting
the temple of art this evening-don't you
want to go, my deah ? Yaws, knew you
would-that's the ideah By the by, womer
like Opewas, they do, pom honah! the Acad
cmy is thronged envy night by them, SO, by
my whiskersw
Poor Alice!
Edmund Rowand with his wife and young
est daughter were now without a permanen
home; and they were seated together on tn,
morning after the fire, in the little parlor o
Isaac Odenheim, the benevolent Jew, and up
on the same day that Alice and her dandy
guardian were seeking their abode Th'
subject Of their conversation was their futur
course. Unfortunately they had not notice.
the exact situation of the editors Office mol
in fact, did they remember his name for tn
father had been so bowed down with shame
the mother with her own innate hopes an
fears, and the child elated by the rainbo,
clouds of happiness that now were appearin
in the place Of those obscure, black ones {
sorrow, that the idea never entered into the
heads to ask their benefactor's name. M
Green. the lawyer who had so nobly offere
to undertake the penitent mans cause, the
remembered well, but where were they to fin
him ?
"What shall we do about Alice p anxiou
ly enquired the broken-spirited father. II
hunt for anybody in this great city would
as useless as to search for a needle in ha
NOW. What demon prompted me TO brir
all this desolation on my familyp have
stroyed my home, lost darling child, su
fered the degrading humiliation Of justice, 9
in few short hours? Why did not a.
that old mans name? Who is he, where
he, what is he? Oh, Fannie, you have be,
kind wife to me, and know you love m
but oh, my God. what remedy is there up,
this vast globe for that terrible disease,
morse"
Edmund, think not Of the past, look b
to the future. let your feet be only in t
present. Our days Of trial are overl | f
give-Day have never had cause TO forgi-
and now forget"
don't don't. Fannie. cannot bear i
groaned the would be reformed inebriate.
Now let us move on happily. But 9
daughter" the mothers voice grew tren
lous, what Of her, iDdeedr'
I'VE must find her, ndleave Philadelphi
Leave Philadelphy | vot you say
shrieked the little voice of the Jew, "vot
you leaves dis city. Nein, nein. you s
stay here as long as you wish Bodder
monish-l want no monish. You stays be
maybe | marries nit leetle Fanny, ehl y
witch !" and the Jew good naturedly piel
up the little child, shouting with delight, .
carrying her about the room upon his shC
der smiled at her glee.
"Yes, Odenheim, / thank you, but"
"Bodder, don't want DO tanks-eh, Iii
witch, yaw pull mine pcard"
II must take my family from this scent
stinging degradation. To some other plac
to the sunny South, where they say true h
pitalIty everywhere prevails, must turn
face. To stay here would be worse Il
death"
"You 90 veres You go IL ter moon, d