Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1861-05-08

frail temple But your humanity, dear Nell
le-your sweet and patient endurance ofmy
seeming coldneSs has awakened within me
some little sembiace of human feeling; and
hoping that the sad tale may not be lost on
You, will give you portion of my early
history:
Alice Waldron is not my name, neither
is Edith that of my sister, but they Will do
as well as any others in relating my story.
We are the twin daughters of a dissent
ing clergyman in the north of England; and
cur mother had died when We were but one
week old, leaving us in charge of our father
and an elderly Sco.chwoman, who had been
her own nurse, and had followed Ler ever
since with all the devotion of mother, and
all the yielding Submission of slave. We
grew up together, carelessly and happy as
the birds or the butterflies tenderly shielded
by oul father and nurse from all knowledge
!, of care or slrfow.f
1T is no poor vanity that leads me to say
that we grew up beautiful. | know that as
grew older, | used to look upon my sisters
face and form with admiration and delight
and ] know, aIso-for my mirror and my
friends alike told me the same tale that we
were the Jac simile of each other
Her figure was 1.-THE, and graceful as the
pendant willow; her complexion like the
delicate tint of the sea-shell her hair golden,
glossy, and abundant and her eyes large,
soft and liquid hazel-and | ditfer ed from
her only III this, that my eyes were of
deeper shade, and, ike my character, more
flushing and spirited
She was loved and petted for her softness
and gentleness | was fattered and admired
for my wi'ful dashing manner, and sparkling
gayety. | often grieved her gentle, yielding
7 ,l,,1 hn, 7
cied my judgment better than hers. and
woula have my way in every matter in which
our wishes or tastes differed.
We were just eighteen, when Philip
Vaughan, the son of an old friend of my
father, came to make us visit. He bad been
r,aking a tour Of the Lakes, and had promised
his father that he would be the messenger of
kind greetings and rememLrances of the
friend Of his youth.
We had never had the society of many
gentlemen, yet 1t needed not the charm Of
novelty to make US delighted with our young
guest.
He had the air and manner that only a
free ingling in good society gives. Added
to uncommOnly brilliant personal attractions,
~ his conversation was exceedingly interesting.
He had great fund of anecdote, could relate
incidents of his travel with much humor,
and had Sufficient sentiment to give, at the
right time and place, softness to his eyes,
and music aud pathos to his voice,
l had heard some honeyed words of love
and admiration and never felt my heart beat
faster, nor my pulse quicker, while listened
but Philip Vaughan had not been under our
roof one week, before felt that he held my
t--'saat9fla tf Il future happiness in his hands.
tull'h HOW, - I hava alwaVS thouOht
ttlat though he was charmed with .l,~ -.
! ty OF ootn, That feeling of love for m,
was already springing up in his heart. II,
was gay, careless, happy, and he laughed a
what he called my brilliant sallies, and whis
| pered me how | should, some day, shine il
the gay world, and how fond, and proud
some happy man would be of me, and tn
| world would look on and envy him his hap
| pIneSs.
! How the rose-color on my cheek DEEPEN
| ed and the light of my eyes softened, unit
they became more like the lovely ones of m,
sister, While he spoke those words to me il
his low, musical tones-while only the moor
looked down upon US with her rays veied b.
the shifting fieecy clouds, and no sound dis
turbed the silence but the ripple of the water
that glided by at our feet. What the en-
| might have teen, dare not guess-what
has been, my daily, nightly reInorse, neve
: lets me for one moment forget.
The next day, at nightfall, Philip wa
brought home terribly wounded, but not dis
figured-oh no! l could not have borne t
see his dear features mangled and distort
| ed-and yet have | not borne worse, ia
, worse?
He had been out alone in the woods, CUR
ming, when he was injured by the explosio
of his gun, which shatteJe ed one arm, an
sent several stlnters deep into his side. H
had, at first, become insensible ON the pair
and after recovering, had lain several hour
upon the wet ground, before he was foun
and brought home to US.
1t Is almost unnecessary to say that h
had every care and attention, all through th
long weeks, when his life seemed to han
upon thread, and he was reduced 10 tn
weakness OF an infant, and through thos
weeks Of tedious convalescence when
was slowly winning his way back to life
/ had no vocation for nursing. coul
rot trammel NY free step down to the SLOW
5 nolSeless movement that a sick room requ
= red; | could not subdue the gay tones
my voice TO the low, soft whisper suited
the ears Of an invalid | could not give up tt
/ : glitter and sparkle Of dew and sunshine fl
the quiet twilight SO necessary to his repos
No; [ throve upon air and sunlight, and II
/ sister biossomed into beauty insshadow ar
darkness as well.
= So. though | loved him still, though
Z loved for few moments to stand by his be
side, and gaze upon his pale but handsou
7 face, to press his forehead with my cool han
e to put away the heavy masses of chestn
hair from his brow, yet soon grew imp
r tient to get away-would beg him to hur
n and get wel-i,ity him that he must be ke
/ in that close, dark room, when it was
n beautiful in field, and wood, and then lea
1 him to Eiitn's care.
c And so il came abou, that she smooth
n his pillow, soo,hed his pain laved his bur
lng ievered brow, brought fresh dewy fo
0 erS every morning to his bedside, and Gas
II grew stronger and conld bea, I'D read to hi
l. from books they both loyea-sang
8 lln the sweet love songs Of the poets. a.
5 so entwined her own sweet life around hi
a that long before he left the sick-room.
had given to her all that remained of his.
e In sunshine and in storm, they had protnis
: TO walk the world together.
: And she was so happy There was
ID; new light in her eye, deeper beauty on
n brow, and cheek, and lip, sweeter tone
e. her voice; and | saw it ali, tut never que
Is ed the meaning of the change
c. / think he fingered in his sick room 10
O. ger than there was any need :; he was so h;
:. epy, % contented, that he was 10th to lea
" it. But every thing was sadly changed, a
/ disturbed, when, one morning, my fail
was found dead in his study. He was
10 ting in his chair, with his head bent forw,
r. ON the desk before him, where he had b,
o writing the night previous. He must h;
I'D died instantly and without struggle, for