The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1873-12-13

very vault Of heaven. Soon saw Just before
me, my own verdant hils--and between them
the willow-brooks in the meadows; and at
the end Of the converging dales, the cedar
cliffs by the river. | sprang from the coach,
threaded the well-known pathway; | soon
saw IN its rural quietude, the home Of my
childhood. In few minutes, | was in the |
arms Of my mother and my sister-I was as
happy for time, as had been when
In rustic boyhood, free from care,
/ hooked the trout, and chased the hare.
But soon relapsed into my distressing med.
itations. Should | tell my kindred Of my love
adventure. They might have aided me to
settle the distracting question, BY teaching
me their cooler judgment, TO distinguish the
dictation Of reason from the illusions Of pas
sion, and the suggestions Of prejudice. Much
would it have pleased me TO tell them all,
except that one tormenting and perplexing
thing, that the most lovely Of maidens, was a
"Jewess." But oh misery when the story
was on the point Of my tongue, | shuddered
and drew back at the thought Of telling that.
Days and weeks rolled on, and brought me TO
no decision. hoped, and mused and pined
away My friends observed my melancholy
air and haggard looks. They ascribed all 70
returning consumption and often took counsel
about the means Of cure. Alasl they little
A"on WY Hi"iAuy was consuming tnc hchftf
not the lungs.
Thus dropped and hesitated till the fourth
month came. became dreadfully alarmed
at the approach Of the final day when must
take the lovely Jewess, or cast her of forever.
Often did | seize my pen and resolve, as she
requested, TO write at all events. Sometimes
her Judaism predominated over ell at her ex-
cellencies, and thought myself ready 70 say,
Forget me, lovely Judith" But for my life
could not say It. The very last week arriv-
ed, the decision must be made, for to desert
it longer was in effect to decide the engage.
ment. The tide Of fortune was ebbing fast,
and the dear object of my fondest affections,
was floating off with the receding wave. This
brought back to view, with mingled force and
rapidity, all the enrapturing lovelness Of what
was nearly gone. Yes, Judith was herself
again; again felt the impression Of her 'love
darting eyes" Of the sweet music Of her voice;
memory brought all, all back ngain, with
pristine freshness, and enchanting effect. The
journey to Charleston, our stay there, the
scene on the sea, the scene at the hotel and
that parting night, the keen sorrows and the
thrilling pleasures, and all that made them
keen and thrilling | saw and / felt them
every one again. would not have given her
up for the world; would have crossed the
frozen Alps, and torrid deserts; would have
/
gions Of death, and have deemed myself well
rewarded to win such lovely creature at last.
"Jewess," that fantastic sprite, was banished
by the confident belief, that my Judith had
manifested so little aversion TO the Christian
faith, and so much of the Christian spirit and
had in several ways, indirectly hinted an in
clination to marry a Christian rather than q
jew, and consequently TO change herrelgious
profession, that really nothing was wanting
but proper occasion, to make her all that
my heart desired. Perhaps some Of this was
the logic of passion, could not tell. Ny
letter was soon dispatched, full Of apologies
for delay, and assurances of undiminished love
and of an unalterable determination to 20, and
lead her to the altar, whenever she should
permit me.
Now the months seemed ages until should
receive her answer. began to make prepa-
rations for my expected voyage, and became
weekly more impatient for the summons Of
my betrothed. / watched the growing and
waning moons, and "chid the lazy lag
ging foot Of time" The delightful summer
Of our mountains seemed interminably long
for it shed its flowers and matured its foliage,
but brought me no answer. / had set four
months as the utmost limit to which even fear
could postpone the return of an answer.
Three months / thought sufiicient-I was by
that time prepared for the voyage, and went
to the postoifice every mail-day expecting TO
find the desired summons to depart. Every
mail.day went disheartened away, but still
indulging the hope that the next mail would
not disappointment me. Thus the fourth
month passed over my impatient spirit-but
to the end of it no letter came. ! saw the
leaves Of autumn put on the bright hues Of
approaching decay, making the forest glorious
to all eyes but mine. Still no letter come.
Impatience was converted into fearful ankle
| ty. saw the leaves ofautumn fade, and then
| fly withered and sere, before the northern
| blast, until the forest looked sad beneath the
gathering storm Of winter. Sad and sadder
grew my heart, for not word from Judith
reached my longing eyes. Winter shed its
SHOWS over mountain and valley; Christmas
came, and New Year came, when days are
shortest and dreariest in the outdoor world,
but hearts are merry by fresides; but my
heart was more dreary than the dead earth
and the leaden face OF cloudy sky. The
winter began to yield to the benign power of
the ascending sun, nature began to revive un-
der the genial influence, but not so my desc
late heart. Early flowers looked oat on sun
ny banks, meadows drank new verdure from
the joyful streams that gushed out Of showery
hills, and bounded through the valleys. Now
came the anniversary of the journey to
Charleston--then Of the sea voyage-then to
the love pledges and the parting hour. The
star of my hopes had faded into utter dark.
ness my letters were never TO be answered
what could be the matter?
Whilst had been able to cherish linger-
ing remnant Of hope, that slow passages, or
accidental detentions by sea or land only de-
layed the answer-I clung TO that and waited
for the result before would take any other
step. But when FIVE, and then six months
passed away, my Characteristic hesitancy on
such occasions again operated to make me
| postpone my decisive movement to solve the
mystery Of my disappointment. One or two
things might do-write again and repeatedly
or 60 myself to London. To write again pre-.
supposed that either both my letters or her
answer had failed to reach their destination.
But not only was l discouraged by the fact,
that such failures had become very rare-bui
there was this further difficulty, that by writ
ing again could gain no explanation in less
than three months; delay which my impa-
tient heart could not resolve to incur. con-
cluded at last to renew my preparations for a
voyage but various dificnltes-and in my
desponding state Of mind, mole-hills swelled
to mountains-cau delay until the opening
Of the spring. was then completing my ar
rangements and expected soon to depart,
when an unfortunate accident gave another
turn to my feelings.
have since my college days been passion
ately fond Of botany, and have never failed,
when the mild sunshine and early flowers in
vite the lovers Of nature abroad, to make FIRE.
quent excursions about the warm della and
romantic cliffs Of my homestead. One day
late in March, when the sun shone sweetly,
and my heart was troubled with gloomy
thoughts, took farewell stroll upon the
rocky sleeps Of the vicinage, expecting in two
or three days to leave them in search Of my
lost bride. was clambering along the side
Of a steep cliff, washed at the base By the nv
er, now swollen and muddy from late rains.
Happening TO espy on the brow Of the cliff
above me, flower Of rare species and Of at
tractive form and eolors, started eagerly TO
reach It by climbing the precipice. But in
my haste, slipped and fell back almost into
the river. saved myself only by catching
hold Of . sapling, as slid and rolled Ny
bodily hurt was small, but my sick heart re-
ceived a fatal wound. Ny precious locket-
case, which / still wore in my bosom, fell out,
| was oan..hf kv a .f..h 4 lnT..o.l~A A.