Litchfield enquirer., 1862-03-20

pain to Luey," and prevent the opposition from her, and to secure their own happiness, to be married before their arrival in C--. Lucy remained insensible for some time.- When she revived and apparently regained her consciousness, she still maintained her Strange silence. This continued for many weeks when it partially passed away, her friends saw with in- expressible grief that her reason had 1ed-that she was hopelessly insane! But her madness was of mild and harmless nature. She was gentle and peaceable as ever, but frequently sigh ed and seemed hurdened with some great sorrow which she could not herself comprehend. She had one peculiarity, which all who knew her must recolIect this was wild fear and careful avoidance of men. She seemed possessed of the spirit of unrest. She could not, she would not, be confined, but was continually escaping from her friends they knew not whither-
 While her parents lived, they by their watch full care and unwearied efforts in some measure controlled this sad propensity but when they died, their stricken child became wanderer, homeless, friendless and forlorn.
 Through laughing springs, and rosy summers tramp tramp, tramp-no rest for her of the crushed heart and crazed brain.
 remember her. as she was in my early child hood, toward the last of her weary pilgrimage As my father and elder brothers were frequently
 
 or door on "Crazy LucY,' she often spent an was very singular. Her gown was always patch ed with many colors, and her shawl or mantle was worn or torn, until it was open-work and fringe. The remainder of her miserable ward- robe she carried ill bundle on her arm, and sometimes she had number of parcels of old rags, dried herbs, Sc.
 In the season of flowers, her tattered bonnet was prolusely decorated with those which sue gathered in the woods or by the ways!de. Her love for these and her sweet voice were all that were left her of the bloom and music of exis- tence. Yet. no; her meek and childlike piety still fingered. Her God had not forsaken her; down in the dim chaos of her spirit the smile of His love yet gleamed faintly-in the waste gar den of her heart she still heard His voice at eventide, and she was not afraid. Her Bible went with her everywhere-a torn and soilsd volume, but as holy still and it may be, as dearly cherished, my dear reader, as the gorgeous copy now lying on your table, bound in purple and gold,' and with the gliding alntarnished up- on its delicate leaves.
 Thirty years from the time of the commence nent of this mournful history, on a blank autum nal evening. rough country wagon drove into the town of C--. It stopped at the aims house an attenuated form was lifted up and carried in, and the wagon rumbled away. Thus was Lucy Dutton brought to her native town to die.
 She had been in decline for some months. and the miraculous strength which had so long sus- tained her ill her weary wanderngs at last for sock her utterly. Her sister had died some time before, and the widowed husband had soon after removed with his family to the far West; l I,,ny, bod f,i I, I,k xl, al, house.
 One lay about q week from the time of her arrival Lucy appeared to suffer greatly, and those about her looked for her release almost impati- ently; but at night she was evidently better, and for the first time she slept tranquilly till morn ing. The matron, who was by her bedside when she awoke was startled by the clear and earnest gaze which met her own, but she smiled and bid the invalid "Good Morning" Lucy looked be- wildered, but the voice seemed to re-assure her, and she excumed :" Whore am and who are you? l do not know you.'
 A wild surmse flashed across the mind of the matron; the long lost reason of the wanderer had returned. But the good woman replied calmly and soothingly: ...-
 "Why you are among your friends, and you will know me presently"
 Then may be you know Edwin and Ellen,"
 
 had such terrible dream! dreamed that they were married :! Only think. Ellen married to Edwin! Strange tis that should dreatu that" :"
 My poor Lucy.' said the matron, with a gush of tears that was not dream twas all true"
 "All true y cried the invalid "then Edwin must be untrue, and that cannot be, for he loves me ; we love each other well, and Ellen is my sister. Let me see them; will go to them."
 She endeavored to raise herself, but fell back fainting on the pillow.
 "What does this mean ?" said she" what makes me so weak ?"
 Just then her eye fell on her own hand--that old and withered hand ! She gazed on it in blank amazement.
 Something is the matter with my sight" she said, smiling faintly, !" for my hand looks like an old womans."
 "And so it is." said the matron. gently, "and so is mine; yet we had fair, plump hands when we were young. Dear Lucy, do you know me am Maria Allen-1 was to have been your bridesmaid"
 1 cannot say more--I will not make the vain attempt to give in detail all that mournful re- vealing-to reduce to expressive words the dread sublimity of that hopeless sorrow.
 To the wretched Lucy, the last thirty years were as though they had never been. Of not scene, mot au incident, had she the slightest re- membrance, since the recreant lover and traitor ous sister stood before her. and made that terri ble announcement.
 The kind matron paused frequently in the sad narrative of her poor friends madness and wan derings. but the invalid would say with fearful calmness Go on, go on," though the drops of agony stood thick upon her forehead. When she asked for her sister. the matron replied ::
 "She has gone before you, and your father also"
 And my mother?" said Lucy, her face lit up with a sickly ray of hope.
 Your mother has been dead twenty years
 "Dead All gone! Alone, old, dying! Oh, God, my cup of bitterness is full !" and she wept aloud. |as
 Her friend bent over her, and mingling her tears with her said affectionately; "But you know who drank that cup before you?"
 Lucy looked up with bewidered expression, and the matron added--" The Lord Jesus; you remember him.'' ..r
 A look like sunlight breaking through cloud, a look which only saints may wear, irradiated the fearful face of the dying woman, as she replied Oh, yes, I knew Him and loved Him before ; fell asleep.''
 The man of God was called. A few who had known Lucy in her early days came also. There was much reverential feeling, and some weeping around her deatIrbed. Then rose the voice of prayer. At first her lips moved as her weak spirit joined in that fervent appeal. Than they grew still, and poor Lucy was dead--dead in her grey haired youth. Those who gazed on that placid face, and rememhesed her harmless life | and patient suffering, doubted not that the morn of an eternal day had broken on her "Night o Years,," s11 l