Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1869-06-01

ing untarnlShed upon It's delicate
leaves.
Thirty years from the time Of the
commencement of this mournful histo-
ry, on a bleak autumnal evening.
rough country wagon drove into the
town of C. 1t stopped at the
alms-house; an attenuated form was
lifted up and carried in, and the wag-
on rumbled away This was Lucy
Dutton, brought to her native town to
die.
She had been in a decline for some
months and the miraculous strength
which had so long sustained her in
her weary wanderings at last forsook
her utterly. Her sister had died
some time before and the widowed
husband had removed to the far west;
so Lucy had no friends, no home but
the alms-house.
One day, about 4 week from the
time of her arrival, Lucy appeared to
suffer considerably, and those about
her looked for her release almost i'm
patiently; but at night she was evi-
IDENTIFY better, and for the first time
she slept TRANQUILITY till morning. The
matron, who was by her bedside wien
she awoke, was starlIed by the clear
and earnest gaze which met her own,
but she smiled and bid the invalid
"GOod morning" Lucy looked be-
wiIdered, and the voice seemed to re-
assure her; and size reclaimed:
"Where am |, AMI who are you?
| do not know you F?
A wild surmise flashed across the
mind Of the matr0a; the long lost
reason of the wanderer had returned.
But the good woman replied calmly
and soothingly:
why, you are among your friends,
and you will know me presently"
Then may be you know Edwin
and Elem rejoined the invalid;
"have they come? Oh, had such
horrible dream dreamed that they
were married Only think, Ellen
married to Edwin! Strange It's that
| should dream that!'
Poor Lucy" said the kind matron
with a gush of tears, "that was not
dream; twas all true"
"All true p cried the invalid "then
Edwin must be untrue, and that can
not be, Tor he loves me; we love each
other well, and Ellen is my sister,
Let me see them; | will 60 to them"
She endeavored to raise herself but
fell back tainting to the pillow.
What does this mean ?" said She
what makes me so weak p
/ Just iu,u her eye fell Oh her own
hand-that old and wlthered hand
She gazed on it i'll blank amazement.
Something is the matter with my
sight" she said smiling family, "for
my hands ,ook like an old woman's."
Aud 50 it is,'' said the matron
gently, land 50 is mine; yet we had
fair, plump hands when we were
young. Dear Lucy, do you know me ?
| am Maria Allen was to have been
your bridesmaid. -
canaot say more-I will not
make the vain attempt to give in de-
tail all that mourntul revealing-to
reduce to expressive words the dread
subIimity OF that hopeless sorrow.
To the wretched Lucy, the last
thirty years were as though they had
never been. OF not a scene, nor an
incident, had she the slightest remem-
brance, since the recreant and trait
orouS lover stood before her and
made that terrible announcement.
The kind matron paused frequent
ly in the sad narrative of her poor
friends madness and wanderings, but
the invaiu would say, with fearful
calmness-"Go on, go on" though
the drops of agony stood thick upon
her forehead. When she asked for
her sister, the matron replied:
"Sht has gone before you, and your
father also.
"And my mother ?" said Lucy, her
face lit up with sickly ray of hope.
"Your mother has been dead TWEEN
ty years"
Dead All gone Alone, old, dy-
ing Oh, God, my cup of bitterness
is full" and she only wept aloud.
Her friend bent over her, and ming
ling her tears with hers, said affect
ionately:
"But you know who drank the cup
before yor 2
Luz, looked up with a bewildered
expression; and the matron- added
"The Lord Jesus you remember him.
A look like sunlight breaking through
cloud, look which only saints may
wear, irradiated the fearful face OF
the dying woman, as she replied:
"Oh, yes, | know Him, and loved
Him before | fell asleep"
The man of God was called. A
few who had known Lucy in her ear
ly days came also. There was much
, reverential feeling and some weeping
around her death-bed. Then rose the
voice of prayer. At first her lips
moved as her weak spirit joined IL
that fervent apneal. Then thew grew
still, and poor Lucy was dead-deaC
in her gray-haired youth. Those who
] gazed on that placid face, and remem
bering her harmless life and patien
suffering, doubted not that the morr
:, of an eternal day had broken on hel
"Night of Years
o SECRETARY boutwell, AND HI
GOLD SALEs.-The Washington cor