The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1870-11-15

Wye Neck, Md, Nov. 2, 1870.

Wye Neck, Md. Nov. 2, 1870.
To the MIDDLEBURY REGISTER -
Doubtless, Mr. Editor, you will be sur
prised to hear from the "sunny South"
and from a rebel and, perhaps you may
not care very much for such letter.
Now although l do not desire to be in
trusive, yet 1 feel strangely tempted to
try your patience tonight. 1 have been
thinking, thinking all day of your bcauti-
full state, and somehow the reflection
makes me feel "blue." Shall I tell you
why Ifyou think you possess large
portion Of that goodly virtue which was
remarkable in Job, just "hear me for my
cause and | will relate the reason why
| feel inclined to indulge in vein of
melancholy, and why | have chosen
the Middlebury Register as my conf
dent.
Imagine to yourself pleasant
stretch of country in that portion Of fair
Maryland, known as the Eastern Shore /;
the trees glorious with their rich autumn
hues, and the skies bright with that calm
chilly brightness, so different from the
fervid radiance of the summer time. On
our right the silver waters of the Wye
glitter in the sunlight, or flow darkly
through the shade, as they wend their
way to the Eastern Bay, which bears
them on to the broad expanse of the
Chesapeake.
Their is quiet in the atmosphere dis
turbed only by the fitful moaning of the
of the wind through the lofty pines; and
as one gazes out through the window, in
silent reverie, on the scene, the impulse
to seize hat and sally forth for walk
is irresistible, at least it was to-day
with me. chose an old haunt of last
summer for my destination, place where
| had spent some pleasant moments with
dear friend, who is now many miles
away from me, but perhaps not very ma
ny from Middlebury The leaves which
had formed thick clusters of foliage above
us in those summer days, now lay sere
and dead beneath my feet; and of course
suggested all manner of solemn thoughts
on the mutability of all things earthly.
At last / reached little stream, which
we had called the RubicoD, and here |
paused, for this had been our trysting
place. Yes, there stood the old tree be-
meath which we had so often sat convers-
sing, and the ripping waters at its base
seemed babbling of by-gone days
May I will tell You what they said to
me?
"wha seek you On our margin, III, muir
| muring stream inquired,
! Are YOU weary of the chhtterius ciuMd, ~
heart and brain tredp
"Then sill beneath yon spreading tree. 'N"nNe
oft sat there before
And think OF days departed and ct friends
yOu meet no more.
To this gentle invitation. nccedcd with a
sigh
And lived a few hriei moments in the Ia, :
that were gone by.
For Minnie seemed then WIN me, although
/ Aud all dismal thoughts had vanished. nS
heart was light aud gay
/ sa2ed Into her sweet brown eyes, her merry
/ laugh heard
And seem'd TO hear her talking, but / an
swered not word,
For aspell was on my senses. the power y
speech had flown,
| When l knew that she was mere again my
beautiful, my own.
She needed not my silence, but talked OF days
And said that we had me, again, ami we
should part no more.
Then u wave of fate engulphed me; started
with u scream,
A had fallen in the water. ana my Nls'"" was
dream,
Now was not this sad ending to my
reverie? Do you wonder that should
feel melancholy this evening, and that
my nearest friends should find me little
cool If Caesar had met with such a
cold reception at the ancient Rubico mas
| at the modern, there might have been a
different page in history. should like
to know if the Vermont girls ever meet
with such disasters. If they do, ] am
sure they will sympathize with me; il
they do not, think they will, at least,
accord me a passing thought of kindness,
for know they are all kind and sweet !;
and in your midst | know there is one
fair girl who will feel for my misfortunes.
Tell her that | have taken advantage of
your friendly columns to register my sor-
rows. and should her thoughts revert to
old Maryland, in perusing this sketch !
know she will recall the moments spent
with MIRIAM HOPE