The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1869-01-24
VOLUME l.
HONORIA. DEANE.
BY RUTH MnIA1s.

The winter night was about to settle down
Wes c sns faint to the sad
land sweeps, it's pale etreaks OF light making
yet more lorn and desolate the mournful waves
Of upland that crept away into the darkenng
ward, and came spreading over the sky like o
great moving desert, broken here and there by
an oasis of sallow lightness those sad riffs that
openings into vague world of eerie question
ings and forebodings.
But the clouds spread on, the breaks narrow
and disappear, the weird world closes its win
dows, and the real earth under our feet grows
very dark. In the west the Slouds<writhe aud
expand, and endeavor to blot Aht all trace
into Titan palaces, towering oak forests, spired
fanes, and ships with gloomy rigging, while the
cleaning creeks that intersect the dusky cloud,
islands, and peninsula. grow momentariiy
The little dim pools that lie awake all day
among the moses, like watchfui eyes, have
searched the vague drifts with their deep visit,
full gaze, till the last vista has vanished, and
now slunber III the shadows of their mother
earth; till by-and-bye, when the moon MAY
rise, or o star, and summon scattered few OF
them from their dark rest, to watch the night
through. Straining ones ear, it is possible, in
the stiffness, to catch the inward rush OF the
tide that struggles behind yon low, distant line
of hills to the westward, and their reIre eg
in the far shades till the hearing cannot discern
at what infinitely fine point the sound ceases TO
exist. The rafting of stones stirred ON the
single, the falling away of waters over the hard
sand, one sees in fancy as one listens: Sobbing
bleating echoes startle the blood with chill
tingle, as the plover wings over the invisible
heath And sharp upon them comes the shriii,
desolate cry Of the curlew, perched, perhaps,
upon those far-away wet stones that the tue IS
leaving. Uneasy sounds are coming now at IN
tervals from eastward, where the winds are
gathering The wintry moor1and night has
set in.
Honoria Deane with her face pressed though
close to her cabin window, sees and hears these
things, and marks them-they are nothing new
or strange to her, page from which she has
daily conned from childhood up till now, her
twentieth year. In her simple familiarity with
the sublime, she does not know herself that her
spirit is ruled by the looks and tones OF that
wild Nature, whose nurseling she.ls But they
do sway her, and strong, deep soul is hers that
obeys them. She is not conscious OF any very
exalted sentiments rs she looks from her win
dow but she feels the poetry OF the scene, Jnst
as she might feel the sun warm upon her cheek
without Questioning what the sun rs. &c.,,
her window, and stepped briskly about the
house. She had been very happy all DAY, Ior q
reason of her own, and when 1t was GUNNER IN
Honoria's heart many basked in the sunshine.
She was one who could not keep her happiness
to herself; it must out, beaming full from her
eyes, and irradiating her face, shining through
q thousand little chinks in her manner OF dong
the most trivial actions, CHANGING forth in
snatches of song, and lavished from her bonnie
brown hand in fmpulsive charities to all within
her reach, from the beggar-lnan 10 the CS@
Honoria's father YVES o farmer, considerably
better OF than tho poor landholders of Letter
gesch, for he possessed another farm in addi-
ton to the holding on which he lived with his
daughter. Also, his cabin was superior nay
ing, as we'll as the ordinary room and kltch-
en-, a lot OF attic, attained by q ladder, and 9
byre outside for the animals; and instead OF
the usual sloppy entrance, a low wall ran front
ing and level with the windows, enclosing o
crowd Of overgrown hydrangia, and surmount-
ed by flourish of wild flowers.
For the inside we will view it by the light Of
the blaze that Honoria has stirred, and which
illumines the kitchen sufficiently foronr pur
pose. The floor is earthen, and all hills and
hollows. The turf fire is built on the hearth
and the wide chimney is reeking with smoke
stains. So, also, are the bare rafters of the
roof where the cocks and hens are roosting, and
whence some netSlnd pucawn are dangling
There is a dresser pretty well stored with delft
and few tin vessels shine on the walls. There
is a table, andsome rude benches, and last OBJ
served there is box of hay in the corner, il
which a cluckng hen is taking her ease.
Honoria has baked some potato bread, and
leans with one round arm against the smoke
darkened wall, above the hearth recess, in the
familiar attitude Of one accustomed to manu-