Litchfield enquirer., 1875-07-15

[ like that of Lloyd Blakesley, because 1t was formed of extremes, and description seems like exaggeratiOn. A body of ice and soul of fre-in one age of the world r he would have been an aScetlc of the bsternest type; in another he would have l been Feformer or a martyr In the pres l ent age he was faithful and untiring pastor-a preacher who wept in secret l over his congregation, but who wreathed no flowers about the sword of the Spirit to dull it's edge; man whose clear intel lect pierced through the snbtleties and enlightened the shadows in which others wrap themselves to evade tie perception l of rlght-whose conscience held him with a grasp of iron Ie unceasing labor, ard in whom the idea of duty awaked an enthu- s1asm that souls less noble only gain from desire. Though he was not
 "That faultess monster whom the world ne'er saw," I his faults appeared to grow out of his vir- tues. He was so stern, so hard toward himself, that he sometimes lacked tender ness for others. He struggled so success fully to overcome the temptations in his own path, that, occaslonly. there was a tinge of impat1eEce or pride in his remon- strances to those vino yielded. Yet his heart yearned in pity for the world of sim l strong in patience when that labor seemed fruitless; and withal hepossessed that mag net1sm whereby some characters control and influence even those with whom they have little sympathy. After the service on this Sabbath MT. Jameson waited to speak with the minister, and brought him to the carriage to introduce him to me. l thought his glance rested upon me with | interest and curiosity, but he spoke only a few words and passed on.
 l The next evening, and many subsequent evenings, he spent at our house, in Amy's parlor, I listened to his talk with Mr. Jameson and his daughter. saying little myself,yet sometimes involuntarily drawn into an expression of feeling or opinion and from all such moments of forgetful- ness was recalled by observing that he was studying me as one revolves an inter esting problem. I intended to remain problem to him, and was wary; but in such unrestrained social intercourse I could not avoid some degree of friendli- ness, and by degrees became in my turn interested in watching him.
 Amy did not know sine loved but soon saw that her whole soul was given to him that she counted time by the days pas sed s1nce he left or the hour when he would come again. In studying, she was bent chiefly upon making herself more competent to follow his thought and to understand his allusions. In reading, she betrayed involuntarily the impress of his mind upon her tastes. In her prayers, pure soul she did not 1ealize her own needs while she supplicated Heaven for health, and strength, and comfort, and reward for him. For sometimes he droop- ed sorely. The perversity, the sin. which he found in some parts of his parish, the stupidity and eareiessness in others, some times discouraged, and sometimes heated him to zeal that did not appear alto gether holy 4s,a...as saa .1.--..
 could dwell in her presence. She never reproved, she never argued, she only spoke of forbearance, of pity, of love, and 10 all the world grew bright with di- vine presence, and his weakened hands were strong to labor. and his troubled soul was hopeful and calm. In other moods he told her of cases calling for sympathy and counsel and word or two in her low, silver tones. suggested the course of action his own mind could not devise. And when he talked, as he often did, with MT. Jameson, upon topics that interest men of intellect Ill every grade of life-when he planned large schemes of philanthrophy, or discoursed brilliantly upon passing events-h1s eyes often sought Amy's listening face, and a perti- nent remark from her lips gave new vigor to his interest in the theme. To her mind, prone from her situation and her disposition to softness and gentleness and poetic reverie, his strength and even his sternness of thought was healthful tonic, and she was right in looking up to him as to one whose companionship was of ben eft i; but ln her humility she was uncon- scioas of what she was to him.
 And to me also she was the angel of peace. Her gentleness, her unvarying happiness, her patience in spite of that which would have fretted me to madness, the spirit breathing in all she said or thought, prompting all her acts and con- trolling her desires--these were to me a revelation of state of serene joy, of in- effable peace, which I had never before supposed mortal could attain-a state of loving and entire submission to the will of God. And thus that soft hand led me to the mercy-seat, and learned the bless edness of the worship claimed from us when our idols are broken before our eyes to show us they are clay. r e-s.a
 Thus months passed. Autumn changed the green fields to gold and brown, and left them for bleak December to sere as he trod them hard beneath his feet Then Winter wrapped them in pail and hid them away for the resurrection of the coming year. And slowly, impercephbly, as these changes had been wrought, other changes as great had occurred in the men tai states of the group whose centre Of union was the sofa where Amy reclined, patient and lovely as ever, though a. shad- ow>had fallen upon her heart.
 One afternoon Tn early spring l return ed from a walk with my hands full of vio- lets and May-buds half opened. Wishing to surprise Amy with pleasure I knew she 1onged for, arranged these flowers in vase, and, opening the door of her to present them suddenly before her. As I advanced noticed that her head was bowed so that the back of the sofa hid her face, and thinking she might be asleep I paused A faint sound reached my ear. Was 1t possible? Was Amy weeping2 Agaln and again it came, suppressed but deep, convulsive, as if it tope' her heart open. No physical pam could move her thus. As paused, uncertain what to do, she moved, half-raised herself, and clasp I ed her hands meekiy, and I heard these words breathed softly, as a child might speak to loving father: '.Pity me, make me unselfsh i; and oh, forgive me that I have loved him too well r seer-.-- ...,z l. I could not bear this. How had Lloyd I Blakesley dared to hurt my darling 1? A- si'1 II Il set down the flowers and clasped her in my arms. She was startled and con fused for a moment but, all unnerved l and trembling, she could not be reserved; I and when she had wept her tears out on my bosom, and my heart had melted itself over her grief in love and entreaty, she told me all. | MT. Blakesley had been there in my ab- scence, and had revealed to herza certain purpose of his, which rudely opened her eyes to see the nature of the affection she had been cherishing for him. It was a love unselfsh as were all her emotions; for she had never thought of appropria-