Lexington advertiser. [volume] (Lexington, Miss.) 1838-187?, 1870-03-11
LEXINGTON, MISSISSIPPI, MARCH II, 1870.

tertiles sports unpercelved amidst
leatless shrubbery.
had an only brother; our paths
in life had been widely sundered.-
He trod amongst men supreme in
the might of his natural gifts and
soaring ambition. But he died
young-having married early in
life, following his own noble in
stincts, the woman of his choice,
regardless of consequences. She
was early widowed, and her heart
broke over the tomb of him she low
ed. One grave received them-Lio-
mel and MIRANDA. Their child was
confided to me. All! fair, sweet Ju-
lie! how didst thou smile on our sol
itude, and how dearly was thou low
ed! Child Of my adoption, thy ear
Iy blight brought desolation TO my
heart more dreary and joyless than
former losses had ever done. Thou
vert sole rose in the garden of life,
and with thy whitening died out the
last hope Of an old mans love. She
was beautiiul-thiS bright Julie-a
parentless flower, and | loved her
the more because she seemed a re-
deeming link heteen me and my
dead brothers opposing sentiments
and career. But Julie was this
mysterious strangers victim. To
her he directed all the power of a
fascination rarely resisted.
My avOCatiOns take me often
from home. 1t was on y by snatch
es that saw this ripened flower OF
lovliness. RumorS were aauat
that the stranger had won our Ju,
lies love, and, one bright May
morning, she was found no more
in our midst. Then it was that,
reused by a love paternal in its
watchful solicitude, | sought her
far and near. No tidings rewarded
my search, and | sat down in my
rined home with no consolation
save that which beamed from the
meek eyes of my wife. There, in
deed, | found, as | had ever done,
the only balm for my wounded splr,
it. Yet there was a mighty desc
lation in our midst, understood on,
ly by those who, having few to
love, lavish the hearts tenderness
in boundless measure on them.
SINNER had lapse1 into autum.-
Again strong voiced wind sang
along leattess groves, and | felt
that the hour Of my trial was ap-
proaching. The day had been mis-
ty, and loud howled November's
blast over dun fields and leaheSs
groves. We were seated in our
parIor, a bright fire bIazed on the
hearth, and ever as tinkling rain
drops parttered on the window
glasses we drew nearer our com
Portable "ingleside" and thought
compassionately of wayfarers.
There was a quick, convulslve
pull at the bell. Another moment
and our lost Julie stood before US,
but so altered by sorrow (for no
great lapse of time had intervened
lince we lost her) so altered was
she, l say, that nothing but the
Keen eyoe OF love could identity
her.
"Ah, dear child, whence come
you?" and why are your great soul,
eyes heavy with hushed
tearss"
"Talk not to me-" said she wild
ly, and color came to her pale
cheek like autumnal red in a
stormy sky. "Talk not to me after
the fashion OF better days, dear un'
Gle; see, my heart is withered. he
whom l loved, oh so passionately
that even now my soul clings to
his memory, he Is dead to me-"
The conclusion of this sentence
was uttered in a tone so piteous
that a heart of steel might have
melted at its soul narrowing
sound.
"Yes, dead! plunged In an abyss
of mystery and crime from which
there is no redemption. Ask me
no questions; enough, my idol was
made of clay. 1t has been shatter'
ed at my feet; l have come home to
die"
Her words we're prophetic. In