Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1863-07-28
TFrom the Atlanta Intelligencer. |
A COMMON STORY.
By COUSIN NouRMA.

! Sunday morning. It is very late when I tum.
BILE out of my nest it is very late when break
fast, and too late to dress in Sunday clothes when
I return to my little room. Well, I'll sit full in
the window, my feet on the sill, and whilst en-
Ijoying the anestbesa of glorious pipe of KILL
kinick, muse and dream, and listen to the won
derful carOlings, and mimicry, and music of the
birds which make vocal the forest which casts a
most luxurious and grateful shade over my little
retreat. My dear friend, you can see me, in inn
agination. lounging with a peculiar ease and a.
bandon, which is exclusively Sunday institu-
tion. Music Yes, ssthere's music in the air -
there's music everywhere; that's poetry when l
didn't mean to perpetrate it, but we can't help
ourselves at such times as these. Yon mocking
bird, whose odd notes are sounding IN wonderful
changes, is an orchestra in itself. The oriole
and a hundred others, eniiven the hour, and take
me back to the days when the Sabbath was TO
me, not day for lounging and idleness, but
day of joy--a glorious hymning day-when the
clear sky, the bright fields, the perfumed flowers,
and the charming voices of musical BIRDS made
my very soul dream rapturous incarnation of
sentiment and enjoyment. Well, must forget
portion of the past. The peculiar attraction
has fled. You must have guessed it ere this
No2 Well, III whisper ii to you for the re-
membrance is sacred, it was so fresh, so youth
full, so pure, SO peryadiDg-my love. Now that
have acknowledged it, [ will sew some buttons
on these clothes, sew up that rent ia my breech-
es, and think OF the Iast Oh dear me, have
told the secrets of my den. Well ! well (! il can
not be helped. Had the course of true love ran
smooth, perhaps would not be 50 handy with
the needle; perhaps some daiatier aud more deli
cate fingers would make neater stitches in this
patched shirt bosom, the buttons kept on my
shirts, and--well, who knows what might have
happened. Dear me ; I'm sure this room would
look more tidy and neat that pair of boots
would not be, enc in one corner, the other on
hat uynI moi h1ar IN has
my coat hanging, unbrushed and negligently, on
chair neither would that little pitcher be sit
ting where dozen like 1t were replaced when
accidentally broke them; nor yet would those
books and musical instruments be scattered loose
under the bed, in yon corner under that torn fold
of carpet, and on that old saddle. Mo- none of
these careless appearances would be here, had l
not become sigh whilst write the word--a
bachelor.
There the secret is out, and I stitch, stitch.
stitch, whilst tsere Is something before my eyes
like mist, anu cannot see plainly whether the
stitches are long or short or right at all What /
you, an old fellow like you crying fie! shame,
and there, just listen to the sweet chime of those
bells. Aye those bells; Pll put down this work
and dream awhile. Yes, it is long ago, but fresh
IN memory when the tune and musical chime of
those bells my youthful heart sung its songs of
Joy and love and unison. Beneath yon walnut
tree, testo0ned with grand old grape vine, in
WuOSo Swings lulloU uySolI To Steep, OF 10
muse; and that sparkling spring gushing forth
its soft and lute-llke tones of liquid melody
twas there loved to listen to the chimes of the
sweet old bells, and read in their magic sounds
the happy life Josie and pictured, when our
love should be consummated in the brightness
and JOY of the future. Ours was the dream, rose
colored and youthful, glorious and unalloyed in
simplicity, which looked to that happy day when
the chimes of those sweet and silvery bells would
ring their merry pealS in accord with the music
in our hearts, We We're innocent then; loving
youth is always so.
separation came went to college, she to
one OF those institutions where the straight Jack
ct conventIonalltles OF society are forced on the
rebeillous minds of innocence by the cold and
torturing driH of a boarding school. Oh! / al
most hate boarding schools for girls. Taker
/ from the endearmentS of home and all their romp
| ing freedom, from the influence of mother and
the dear scenes OF their native haunts, to be i'm
INJURED in prison, and disciplined in the icy
school Of formality, where all love and innocence
| is driven from their minds; where the budding
woman is taught to see che world outside of study
as barren place and only to be entered after ,
student life which totally unfits her for a reaII,
noble sphere of action on its broad stage.
schooling which persistently breaks down the in
genuousness of the innocent child, and teache
the young lady to despise the homely garb ant
ungrammatIcal words of her uneducated parents
Oh! oh but you wonder why rave thus.
We parted with lovers kiss, and thousand
yes, ten thousand protestations of love, undyin,
love, inseparable love-how pleasantly hinge
on that Word-I to scenes and dreaming life il
the orient, Josie to her books and steel fran
training. light heart and buoyant spirit car
rled me through the magniicence of Europe
The memory of Josie was in my heart amid al
the glowing, gorgeous beauty and sparklin
wealth OF European splendors.
4 Rowing through glorious palaces, crowned an
illustrated with all that art and ARCHITECTURE
!, could do, and revellng in the intoxication {
their enchantments, my soul dreamed Of the col
tage home across the sea, and loved it the more
Through the Alps, and all the terrible and woI
derful scenery,--the sublime grandeu- of ei,
ciers and precipices; over the mountains OF SNOW
through the terrible defies, and rayines All
mountain paths, where Suwarrow fought tt
grandest retreat that ever ennobled soldier
fame or made nation historic ;-all this. The
I revelling amidst the beauties Of the Vaudoi
: whose maidens are the cynosures of traveller
eyes and the inspiring themes of enraptur.
poets word-paiuting verses.