The dollar weekly bulletin. [volume] (Maysville, Ky.) 1862-1864, 1863-03-26

1
And then he bent his way toward q group
of girls standing on the gteee lawn little
distant from us. need not tell that Clara
was thereof the vows that were made-of
the parting kiss-of the rosebud that was
espied on Harry's bosom as he mounted the
coach. Mute and silent we stood watching
that old coach as it ratified with its heavy
wheels over the rood until it mounted the
hilltop in the distance, and then we could
discern white handkerchief waving for
moment In the hands Of Harry-and 1t and
the loved one it held was lost to our vision.
Harry Watson found his way to New
York, where he procured situation as a
cabin-boy on board of packet bound to
Liverpool. His upright department, his
polite manners and his intelligence won
for him the warm esteem of the captain,
and made him many friends of those who
were passengers on board. Among these
was a celebrated American Artist, who
was on his way to Italy to study under
some of the polished professors of that land
OF refnem ent and art. He discovered in
Harry the strength, of his mind, the pro-
pensties which characterized him-snd was
surprised at the specimens of paintings
which Harry showed him-a few of which
he had brought with him.
Six months had passed away, and then
we find Harry Watson in the laboratory of
an Am erican Aatist in the beautiful city of
Naples-himse.f already promising aspi-
rant of the art. The friends Of Harry had
not heard of him since he left, aud many
were predictions as to his fate. Years sped
ard still our comrade did not return. One
by enc my youthful companions were leav-
ing their homsteads, and at last it came my
turn. ] bid farewell to my relatives. kissed
the brows Of the village girls, shook the
last remnant of the relics of that old group
of seven, ard was myself wanderer in the
world-an sspirant after honor and station.
Five long years had passed into eternity.
and | had wandered far over the world
had grown to manhood-but still in my dis
tant home had heard nothing from my
old school-mate. t1
1t was bright May morning as when
Harry Watson left his native place, that the
same old village coach came rattlipg up the
road. 1t stopped in front of the residence
of widow Watson and gay-dressed gen
tleman, perhaps somo two-snd-twenty
years old. decended from it,. His heavy
moustache gave him a foreign appearances;
yet be was remarkably handsome. He
knocked at the humble door, and an old
man of years and wrinkles opened and babe
him enter. --i
believe you do not recollect me sir.
The o,d man gazed for a nom ent upon
the straDger-it was but for moment for
he tottored towards him, grasped him warm
ly by the hand, aud said:-
Why, Harry Watson, is it you? How
glad am to see you. We thought you
were dead we had heared nothing from
yon since you bid adieu to old Gresnville-
town.
That is strange, for have written home
and supposed you had all departed; for 1
never received an answer.
That is strange, muttered old George
Clark, the village school master for he in
deed it was, aud the mysterious stranger
was none other than Harry Watson him
self.
But my mother, where Is she? anxiously
inquiring Harry.
The old mans head fell upon his breast
"a tear fell from his eye, and he spoke
not.
Speak my dear old friend, where is my
mother
fear to tell you, faltered the old man.
Prepare YOURSELF my noble boy, for the
worst. And then pointing with his long
bony fingers through the open easement he
whispered into Harry's ear
She lies in yon graveyard
Deadi
She is no more, Harry.
And Harry wept-wept that his long an
ticipated joy-the happy moment when he
should meet his dear old mother again; had
all vanished.
But Clara-what of her.
A smile played around the old mans
countensnce.
She lives-and lives for Harry Watson
Thank God that my Clara is yet alive.
Happy was the meeting of Harry and his
loved Clara, and in his joy he almost forgot
the grief the loss of his mother had occa-
stoned. Soon it was sounded through the
village that Harry had returne d, and many
were the smiles and greetings of his old
| friends.
But what change had come over the
scenes of other days His associates had
! all, like himself bid adieu to the haunts of
their young ambition and and were widely
scattered ever the world. Old George
Clark was no longer the village school mas
! ter-another had come to fill his place. and
| faces occupied those old time worn benches.
The scenes of boy hood had vanished-Time
had stamped visible mutability upon the
counteuances of his friends-had whitened
the locks of old George-had slain his
mother-had faded the last traces of child
hood from the brows of his youthful con-
panious-and had made his Clara bloom.
Ing maid of eighteen--a woman!
Amidst it all he half forgot his disap-
poiutments, and was very happy-hsppy
once more to tread upon the sol! that gave
him birth-happy to view the faded haunts
4 where he had passed the most blissful hours
of his life-happy once more to breath the
tales of love into the ears of his Clara:
/ shall never forget with what rapture ]
received the first letter from Harry after his
return, followed in few weeks by another
with aa enclosed note containing an invita-
ton to attend his wedding; for he and Clara
were about to become one.