Nebraska advertiser., 1869-08-19

my sadness; and he, being of SYM
pathetic turn and rather impulsive,
was unable to contain himself, and so
exclaimed:
Toes, what Of that letter."
Knowing too well that I could not
avoid the question, I firmly replied,
pointing at the same time to the half
opened letter before me:
..Drewler, thereby lies the sequel
to the oft repeaAed tale, s.nregIted
lore and, since cannot put you of,
listen while I relate:
After an arduous term, but with the
laurels fresh upon my brow, and my
Dialoma in the crown Of my hat (SOr
I wore a plug In those days, 1 soon
found myself gliding swiftly along to-
wards the quiet wales and Green
MOuntainsof New England, in whose
retreats and fastnesses 1 hoped to re-
gain my accustomed physical vigor,
which had been seriously injured by
long and constant application.
One pleasant afternoon, while wan
dering among the delightful retreats
of the Green Mountains, contempla-
ting the grandure Of the towering
peaks before me, clothed in all the
majesty and spIendor of summer YER
dure; ana listening, enraptured, to
the strains of a thousand songsters,
whose mingled warblings fiOated
through green aisle and winding cor
ridors Of fstately pines like some grand
anthem through dim cathedral halls,
suddenly there fioated upon the air,
the sweet strains of a low, plaintive
melody--not of bird, or breeze, or pur-
ling stream-but of human voice.
The melody ceased, and their
Like chimes of siIvery bells
Her clear and joyous laugh rung out
Upon the quiet evening air.
Those echoingS, so beautiful,
Reverberated through the towering pines,
Along the winding wales, from peak to peak
As the ocean shell forever sings the tofIings
So in my memory ever rings those echoing
harmOnieS.
How a subsequent meeting and ac-
quaintance with the fair being with
the melOdiOus voice were brought
about I cannot tell, for, to this day,
that poation Of my existanee seems
like dimly remembered dream. But
we often met, and under the influence
of her inspiring presence, all nature
assumed a new and more enchanting
aspect. While by her side, rambling
through some quiet vale, reclining up
on the messy banks of some mountain
stream, or setting upon some emf
nence, and the cultivated valley be-
meath our feet with its vain embOwer-
ed cottages, its fields of waving grain,
and green pastures and teaming life,
nature was, indeed, beautiful beyond
description, and time flew upon the
wings of the wind.
Her ineffable smile, her lone sweet
voice was rapturOus to the senses. !
knew that loved her, for ZenObia
was beautiful. Her sylph-like form
seemed the embodiment Of grace itself.
Her tinny feet and slender waist, her
gentle heaving bosom, pure as virgin
snow, and teeth Of purely whitenessr
are, all as vivid to my memory as
though our parting was but yesterday.
Those dreamy eyes I shall never for
get. Her sweetly moulded lips and
dimpled cheeks were SO tenderly-
alike a pure ocean shell
with paintest red, melting away 70 pearli-
ness;
and the flow of her chestnut hair soon
broke away into the most bewitching
curls.
The hour was approaching, and
then the Green Mountains would be
shOrn of their central and all absorb
ing charms. However much of pleas.
ure and beauty there had been,
keenly felt that the song of bird, the
laughing stream, the grand old wood;
would odly serve as the sad moments
of happier hours. I could not dwell
upon the dreary picture, but resolved
that at our approaching meeting
which was to be the Iast-tO solve the
problem and to know my fate.
We met, and in a secluded nook
with her small and taper fingers clasp
ed within my own, I told the melting
story of my love. She gave me a pa
tient hearing. and then, with pleas
ant smile, replied: 81 do not lov'
YOU"
What remarkable change had come
over the spirit of her love, I cOulG
never divine. All that was lef
to me, now, were the sad though
sweet memories of that summer in tht
Green Mountains; andnoW even the!
are married, for that open letter con
tains succinct account Of the caree
Of Zenobia andthe enumeration Of thI
hearts she had captured and then cas-
aside the enumeration beginning
with my own. The truth is, as th
letter discloses, zenobia was a heart
less Coquette. Would that I had neve
learned this fact Ignorance is bliss