Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1865-03-09

boast of few brighter ornaments.
But I am wandering. The departure
from home is 30 linked with my mothers i'm
age, as she stood in the gate looking after
me, with her large, mournful eyes; and
with my fathers hale and hearty kindness,
that could not forbear describing them.
! 7 was half sad, half pleased at the idea
Of leaving home. I rejoiced at the pros
! pect of new scenes, and new companions,
but had sore presentiment that my heart
would ache for my mothers ardent sympa.
thy, in all the vagaries of my wild imagina'
ton: Among my most engrossing subjects
of contemplation, remember was the ques-
ton, who shonld have for loom mate.
I sat myself busily at work to sketch a
fancy portrait. Hername was to be Agnes.
She was to be tall, and stately, uery beauti-
full !; with such black hair and eyes as had
dreamed Of in my vision of SPANS proud
beauties. She was to be very talented, and
was at once to love. and reverence her,
and think it joy enough to be permitted
sometimes to touch my trembling fingers to
her satin smooth raven hair.
| But in the midst of my vision, the stage
stopped before the gate of large and hand
some mansion, and gentleman and lady
came forth to welcome me.
cit is Miss Cleveland, I presume" said
the gentleman, in cheetful tone, and [
looked at him in pleased surprise, for he
was very handsome.
"It is Louise, I know" said the lady, as
she clasped me in her arms. "It is Flor
ence Cleyeland's own child, for she has her
mothers great, shy, black eyes,"
I returned the caress very warmly, and
then, standing back, I looked at the lady
with an eye of curiosity. Yes, it was just
tie picture mamma had drawn of her school
girl friend, Mary Evelyn. The same quiet
little woman, with brown eyes, and smooth
ly parted brown hair-so afectionate too.
She put her arm about. me, and led me into
the house, asking a thousand questions a.
bout her "darling Florence" as she called
mamma.
Then she removed my wrappers, apd pro-
posed to take me to my room mate. L had
been travelling all day, but I forgot my IA
tigue in the excitement of seeing my imag-
mary Agnes, and followed Mrs. Carleton
briskly up 3 long fight Of stairs.
She led me by several apartments, from
within whose closed doors, could hear
sounds Of laughter and cheerful talk, and
at last she paused before door in the west
wing of the building. "This is your room,
Louise, DEAR" she said, as she opened the
door. :
: 1t was very pleasant room o cheerful
looking carpet was upon the floor; on one
side stood a low French bedstead, with its
white spread; at the window was writing
table, with a desk of carved ebony, and
round the room were strewn books and pic
lures, betokening the occupant as a person
of taste, as we'll as wealth.
had noticed all this, in much aess time
than it takes to tell it, and my eyes were
resting earnestly on my new roommate,
when Mrs. Carleton stepped forward and
said gently
"Lily Dale, this is your roommate, Lou
ise Cleveland"
Ihad never seen anything so lovely yas was
Lily Dale at that moment; and yet nothing
cou;,d have been more unlike the Agnes of
my Imagination. She was very slight,
graceful girl, Of not mere than fifteen. Her
brow was pure as the fresh fallen snow, and
a faint, sweet smile was playing and dimp-
ling about her rosebud mouth. Her rich,
golden ringlets fell over her snowy neck in
tangled light, and upon her small, classical
head, was poured, through western win
dow, the molten glory of the sunset. Her
eyes were blue as the midsummer sky at
high noon and her thin, gossamer-like
dress, was of precisely the seme shade.
I had but an instant in which to fix on
the walls of my mental picture gallery that
fairy scene--the cheetul room, and the gold
en-haired young girl, sitting in her high
backed armchair, with her wide open blue
eyes, and the sunset glory upon her fore
head. ..
AS Mrs. Carlton spoke, she looked at me
in eager, girlish curiosity, and then coming
forward, she clasped her white, dimpled
arms about my waist, and pressing those
rosebud lips to mine, she whispered
~ am going to love you dearly, Louise
Clsyeland-will you please let mel"
"Let you, angel" and clasped her in
my arms-"why, you are the fairest seraph
out of heaven. I'm only afraid you will fly
away, and leave me sometime, alone here,
in this lonely room p
wonder aohy said this-I do not know.
Are there such things as unconscious pre-
sentiments Who shall say?,
Mrs. Carleton smiled quietly at my en-
thusiasm, and saying, in q tone half sad,
half merry, "Just like your mother, my
child" che left the room to order my sup
per.
My new friend took off my bonnet and
put it away, and then drawing me to
lounge, sat down beside me, and laid her
little, graceful head upon my bosom.
"Do you know, Louise" she exclaimed,
81 am 80 glad you are come. 1t is pleasant
here, but used to get lonely sometimes,
with only my books, and my bird, and the
faces in the clouds, looking in at my west
window p'
My own temperament was so vague,
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