Lamoille newsdealer. [volume] (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1860-1877, 1862-07-25


while from an open door above, still hung
by chain, huge bales of cotton and wool
as if waiting the strong hand of some op-
erative to assist in slowing it away.
A little further on, rose the tall spire
of the village church. looming high above
the less pretending houses and like SEN
tinel, guarding the silent city at its base;
the city of the Dead ! Itwas doubtless
once considered by the simple villagers
the hight of architectural beauty, and ell
egance. Now, like the rest, it was time
stained and in it's ruined beauty, appeal
ing to the heart of the beholder, with al
most preternatural force. The door half
fallen from its hinges, stood open, as if,
at the moment, some devoted worshiper
had passed it's sacred threshold. The
peaceful beds of those sleepers whom
nought could wake save the last trump,
lay grouped around, but they were sunk
en-, and their headstones moss covered and
stained. The tall steeple pointing tow
ards Heaven seemed to say,
From their last home, dark and cold ..
They have passed to a city whose streets are
gold
From the silence that falls on sin and pain,
To the deathless joy of the angels train"
The musical tongue of the old town
clock, which once told the hour of pass
ing Joy or sorrow to the humble villagers
hung motionless, and the huge dark hands
unprotected from the elements, were bent
out at right angles to the face, and SEEM
} ed like some "cold remorseless finger,
pointing to the beautiful visions which
had passed away, and left these traces Of
: their loveliness, on the dire waist of time.
No human being moved in the deserted
and grass grown Streets save the one lone
woman whom Goldsmith has made famil
t liar to all as the widow who gained hel
G livelihood by gathering water-cresses from
the brook and as she persued her daily
toll, would now and then streighten hel
: bent form, and rails her shrivelcd hands
to heaven, as if asking humbly to be tax
1 en- from this scene of desolation, and al
she bent again to her task, I could bu
wonder why was
'She only left of all that harmless train
G The sad historian of the pensive plain?"
S | turned from the window, and looket
e around my little room, wondering VIII.
:. Kate Won Kemp had never mentione,
n to me the beautiful prospect from her noun
i tain home. At this moment she came in
n and calling her to me, lifted her in m,
S arms to the window, saying, look ther
d Katie, is not that beautiful ?--why hav
r you never told me of this Kate /? Wha
: is it teacher,-what is it l don't Sc
: anything Her startled tones dissolve,
the spell the scene faded, the gree
valley, and lonely village turned into
Il field of snow, then to the papered wall
of a room. The form of Kate Won KEN
. changed to that of the committee daugh
ter, and / found myself in my own room
at her fathers house, sitting up, holdin
), her in my arms. She asked me again
j. "what was it teacher,-what did yo
IS see? You sprang up and caught me i
8 your arms, and said, look, Katie, ism
@ that beautiful ?" and laughed, for m
C name isn't Katie, and | did not see any
thing but the wall, and that isn't YER
beautiful, I'm sure" / replied that
must have been dreaming, and on lookin
e at my watch, 1 found had been in be-
n just ten minutes, and had seen the fines
it picture human eye ever rested upon, 0
If mind conceived and lay back on m
W pillow, thanking God that he had so cor
l. stituted the human mind that it could en-
joy the ideal as well as the real,-thanl
e, ing God that | could dream
r. Johnson, July 1862