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BY GOULD & ELWELL,
Office 80 Middle, near Corner of Exchange St.
Hortland
YEAR.
One Dollar for Eight Months, in advanca
Transcript.
1
TERMS: $1,50 PER
AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, NEWS, Se. ee)
PORTLAND, SATURDAY, JANUARY 3, 1852.
VOLUME XY.
POETRY.
MUSIC.
Sweet music steals along the yielding soul
Like the brisk wind that sows autumnal seeds 5
And it bath tones like vernal rain that feeds
‘The light green vale, ordained ere Jong to roll
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With thoughts of Jove it did so well agree;
Fain would I love it to my latest day,
If it would teach me to believe and pray.
e
A SAPITAL STORY.
From Chambers’, Papers for the People.
THE HALF-CASTE:
»-AN OLD GOVERNESS’ TALE,
FOUNDED ON FACT.
In the course of a week, my cares were some-
what lightened. The licutenant re-appeared, and
from that time forward I had very little of the
girls’ company. | He was certainly a kind brother ;
I could not but acknowledge that. He took them
about a great deal, or else stayed at Holywood,
loaving us by the late evening train, as he said, to
go'to his lodgings at Belfast. I, the temporary
mistress of the establishment, was of course quite
polite to my pupils’ brother, and he was really very
civil to me, though he treated me with the distance
due to an ancient duenna. This amused me some-
times, secing I was only _twenty-six—probably his
own age; but I was always used to be regarded as
anold maid. Of Zillah the lieutenant hardly ever
took any notice at all, and she seemed to keep out
of his way as much as possible. When he left us
in the evening—and there was always a tolerable
confusion at that time, his two sisters wanting to
sce him off by the train, which he never by an:
chance allowed—then came the quietest and plcas-
antest half hour of the day. The Misses Le Poer
disliked twilight rambles, so Zillah and I always set
off together. Though oftentimes we parted compa-
ny, and I was left sitting on the beach, while she
strolled on to a pleasant walk she had found—a de.
serted house, whose grounds sloped down to the
very shore. But I, not very strong then, and weigh-
ed down by many anxious thonghts, loved better
to sit and stupefy mysclf with the murmar of the
sea—a habit not good for me, but pleasant. No
fear had I of Zillah’s losing herself, or coming to
any harm ; and the girl seemed so happy in her sol-
itary rambles that I had not the desire to stop them,
knowing how ahabit)of self-dependence is the great
est comfort to. a woman, especially to one in her
desolate position. But though, as her nature woke
up, and her dalness was melting away,Zillah seom-
ed more sef-contained, so to speak ; more restrained
and relying on her own thoughts for occupation
and amusement, still she had never been so'atten- I
tive or affectionate to me. It was a curious and in-
teresting study—this young mind's unfolding, tho’
Ishame to say that just then I did not think abont
Zillah as mach as I ought to havedone. Often I
reproached myself for this afterwards ; but,as things
arned out, I now feel, with a quict self-compassion,
that my error was pardonable.
Imind one evening—now I mind is not quite
English, bat T learned it, with other Scottish phra
ses, in my young days, so let it stand !—I mind one
evening, that, being not quite ina mood to keep
my own company, I went out walking with Zillah ;
somchow the noise of the sea wearied me, and un-
consciously I turned through the village and along
the high road—almost like an English road, so
beautiful with overhanging trees, I did not talk
much, and Zillah walked quite silently, which, in-
deed was nothing new. I think I see her now, float-
ing along with her thin but lithe figure,
clinging dress—the very antipodes of fashion—no-
thing about her that would really be enlled beauti-
fal except her great eyes, that, were perfect oceans
of light. When we came to a gateway—which,like
most things in poor Ireland, seemed either broken
down or left half finished,—she looked round rath-
er anxiously,
“Do you know this, my dear?”
“It is an old mansion—a place’ I often like: to
stroll in.” i ”
“What! have you been here alone ?” i!
“Of course I have,” said she quickly, and slight-
struck me as odd in so inoffensive a matter, espec-
ially as I was anything but a cross governess. « To
please and reassure her, I said : “Well, never mind,
my dear; you shall show me your pet paradise. It
will be quite a treat.”
“I don’t think so, Miss Pryor. It’s all weeds and
disorderand yoncan’t endure that. And the ground
is very wet here and there. Iam sure you'll not
like it at all.”
“Oh, but I will, if only to please you, Zillah,”
said I determined to be at once firm and pacific—
for I saw a trace of her old sullen look troubling
my pupil’s face, as if she did not like her haunts to
be intraded upon even by me. _ However, she made
no more open opposition, and we entered’: the
grounds, which were almost English in their aspect
except in one thing—their entire desolation. The
house might not have been inhabited,or the grounds
cultivated, for twenty years. The rose-beds grew
wild—great patches of white clover overspread the
lawn and flower garden, and all the underwood was
one mass of tall fern.
Thad not gone far in and out of the tangled
walks of the shrubbery when I found that Zillah
had slipped away.’ I saw her at a distance standing
under a tall Portugal laurel, seemingly doing noth-
ing but meditate—a new: occupation oy her; soT
left her to it, and penetrated deeper in what my old
French governess would have called the bocage—
My feet sunk deep in fern, amidst which I plunged,
trying to gather a great armfal of that and of wild
flowers ; for I had, and have still, the babyish pro-
pensity of wishing to pluck everything I see, and
never can conquer the delight I feel in, losing my-
self in a wilderness of vegetation. In that oblivion
of childlike content I was happy—happier than I
had been for a long time. . The ferns nearly hid me
when I heard a stirring in the bushes behind, which
T took for some harmless animal that I had disturb-
ed. However, hares, foxes, or even squirrels, do
not usually give aloud “Ahem!” in the perfectly
human tone which followed. At first I had terrors
of some stray keeper, who might possibly shoot me
for a rabbit or a poacher, till I recollected that I
was notin England but in Ireland, where unjust
landlords are regarded as the more convenient game,
“Ahem !” reiterated the mysterious voice—“ahem!
Is it you my angel?” Never could any poor gov-
erness be more thoroughly dumb-founded. Of course
the adjective was not meant for me. Impossible!
Still it was unpleasant to come into such near con-
tact with a case of philandering ; mere philander-
ing it must be, for this was no village-tryste, the
man’s accent being refined and quite English. Be-
sides, little as I knew of loveemaking, it struck me
that in any serious attachment, people would never
address one another by the silly title of “my angel.”
't must be some idle flirtation going on among the
strolling visitants whom weoccasionally met on the
beach, and who had probably wandered up through
the gate which led to these grounds. To put en
end to any more confidential disclosures from this
unseen gentleman, I likewise said “Ahem !" asloud
as I could, and immediately called out for Zillab.
Whereupon there was a hasty rustling in the bush-
es, which, however, soon subsided, and. the place
became quite still again, without my ever having
caught sight of the very complimentary individual
who had inthis extempore manner addressed me as
his “angel.” “Certainly,” I thought, “I must have
been as invisible to him as he to me, or he never
would have done it.” uo
Zillah joined me quickly, She looked half-fright-
ened, and said she feared something was the matter;
“had I seen anything?” At first I was on the point
of telling her all, but somchow it now appeared a
rather ridiculous position for a governess to be plac-
ed in—to have shouted for assistance on being ad-
dressed by mistake by an unknown admirer, and
besides Idid not wish to put any Jove-notions into
the girl's head ; they come quite soon enough of
their own accord. So I merely said I had been
haps we were intruders on the domain, and had bet-
ter not stay longer. “Yet the place seems quite re-
tired and desolate,” said I to Zillah as we walked
down the tangled walk that led to the beach,she evi-
dently rather unwilling to go home. . “Do youever
meet any strangers about here ?”
She answered briefly, “No.”
* €Did you see any one to-night ?”
“Yes"—given with a slight hesitation.
- ©Who was it?”
“A man, I think—at a distance.”
, “Did he speak to you?”
“No.”
I give these questions and answers verbatim, to
show—what I believed then, and believe now—that
so far as I questioned, Zillah answered truthfully
I should be very sorry to think that either at that
time or any other she had told me a wilful lie. But
this ‘adventure left an uncomfortable sensation on
my mind—not from any doubt of Zillah herself, for
I thought herstill too much of a child, and, in plain
words, too awkward and unattractive to fear her
engaging in love affairs, clandestine or otherwise,
for some time to come. Nevertheless, after thisev-
ening, I always contrived that we should take our
twilight strolls in company, and that I should nev-
er lose sight of her for more than a few minutes to-
gether. ' Yet, even with this precaution, I proved to
be a very simple and short-sighted governess after
We had been at Holywood a whole month,and I
began to wonder when we should return home, as
Zillah was quite well, indeed more blooming than
Ihad ever seen her. Mr. Le Poer made himself
isible once or twice, at rare intervals; he had al-
ways “business in Dublin,”, or “country visits to
pay.” , His son aeted as regent in his absence—I
always supposed by his desire; nevertheless I often
noticed that these two lights of the family never
shone together, and the father’s expected arrival
was the signal of Mr. Augustus’ non-appenrance
for some days. ‘ Nor did the girls ever allude to
their brother. I thought family quarrels might
perhaps have lessoned them in this, and so was not
surprised.. It was certainly a relief to all when the
head of the family again departed. We usually
kept his Ietters from him, he not being very anx-
ious about them, for which indifference, as I after-
wards comprehended, he might have good reasons.
Once there came a letter—I knew from whom—
marked in the corner, “If absent, to be opened by Miss
Pryor.” Greatly surprised was I to find it contain-
ed a bank-note, apparently hurriedly enclosed, with
this brief line: “Jf Zillah requires more, let me
know at once. She must have every luxury necd-
ful for her health—A. 8,” - The initials meant cer-
tainly his name—Andrew Sutherland—nor could I
be mistaken in the hand. | Yet it seemed very odd,
as Thad no idea that he held over her more than a
nominal guardianship, just undertaken out of char-
ity to the orphan, and from his having slightly
known her father.» At Ieast so Mr. Le Voer told
me. The only solution I could find was the sim-
ple one of this being a gift springing from the gen-
ezosity of a heart whose goodness I knew but. too
well. However to be quite sure, I called Caroline
into counsel, thinking, silly as she was, she might
know something of the matter. But she only tit-
tered, looked mysteriously important, and would
speak clearly on nothing, except that we had a per-
fect right to use'the money—Pa always did; and
that she wanted a new bonnet very badly indeed,
A day or two after, Mr. Le Poer, returning unex-
pectedly, took the note into his: own possession,
saying, smilingly, “that it was all right;” and
heard no more. But if Thad not been the very
simplest woman in the world I should have cer-
tainly suspected that things were not “all right—
Nevertheless, I do not now wonder at my blindness.
How conld I think otherwise than well of a man
whom I innocently supposed to be a friend of Mr,
Sutherland?, - we ‘
“Zillah, my dear, do not look so disappointed. —
There is no help for it. Your uncle told me before
he left us that we must go home next weck. So
said I, trying to say it gently, and not marveling
that the girl was unhappy at the near prospect of
returning to her old miserable life. It was a future
so bitter that I almost blamed myself for not hay-
startled by hearing voices in the bushes—that per-
ing urged our longer stay, Still, human nature is
NUMBER 38. |
7 eT —
weak, and I did so thirst for home—my own home.
Bat it was hard that my pleasures should be the
poor child's pain. “Don’t cry, my love,” I went
on, seeing her eyes brimming, and the color com-
ing and going in her face—strange changes which
latterly, on the most trifling occasions, had disturb
ed the apparent stolidity of her manner. “Don't
be unhappy ; things may be smoother now; and I
am sure your cousins bebave better and kinder to
yoa than they did ; even the lieutenant is very civil
ou.” « A sparkle, which was neither pleasure or
pride, flashed from the girl’s eyes, and then they
drooped, unable to mect mine, “Be content, dear
child; all may be happier than you expect.. You
must write to me regulaaly—you can write pretty
well now, you know ; you must tell mo all that
bappens to you, and remember that in every thing
you can trust me entirely.” Tlere I was astonish:
ed by Zillah’s casting herself at my knees as Isat,
and bursting intoa storm of tears. Anxiously I
asked her what was the matter. . .
“Nothing—everything. I am so happy—so
wretched! Ah! what must I do?”
These words bubbled up brokenly from her lips,
but just at that unlucky moment her three cousins
came in. She sprang up like a frightened deer,
and was off to her own room. I did not see her
again all the afternoon, for Lieutenant Augustus
kept me in the parlor on one exeuse or another un-
til I was heartily vexed at him and myself. When
I went up stairs to pat on my bonnet—we were all
going to walk that evening—Zillah slipped away
almost as soon as I appeared. I noticed that she
was quite composed now, and had resumed her us-
ualmanner. I called after her to tell the two oth-’
er girls to get ready, thinking it wisest to make no
remarks concerning her excitement of the morn-
S- °
5
Inever take long in dressing, and soon went ~
down, rather quietly perhaps, but I was meditating
with pain,on how much this passionate child might |
yet have to suffer in the world. I believe I have’
rather a light step; atallevents I was once told
so. Certainly I did not intend to come into the
parlor stealthily or pryingly; in fact, I never tho’t.
of the occupants at all. On entering what was my;
amazement, to see standing at the window—Lieu-
tenant Augustus and—my Zillah! He was em-
bracing—in plain English, kissing her. Now, I
am no prude; Ihave sometimes known a harmless
father-like or brother-like embrace pass between ,
two, who, quite certain of each other's feelings,
gave and received the same in all frankness and
simplicity. But generally I am very particular,
more so than most women. I often used to think ;
that, were Ia man I would wish, in the sweet day "
of my betrothal, to know for certain that mine was
the first lover's kiss ever pressed _on the dear lips
which I then sealed as wholly my own. But in!
this case, at one glance, even if I had not caught
the silly phrase, “My angel !"—the same I heard in |
the wood (ah, that wood!) I or any one would :
have detected the truth. It came upon me
like a thunderbolt; but knowing Zillah’s disposi-
tion, I had just wit enough to glide back unseen,
and re-enter, talking loudly at the door. Upon
which I fouad the licutenant tapping his boots care-
less}y,, and Zillah shrinking into a corner like a +
frightened hare. Ie went off very soon—he said |
to an engagement at Belfast; and we started for
our ramble, .I noticed that Zillah walked along
side ofeCaroline, as if she could not approach or
look at me. : wt
I know not whether I was most shocked at her,
or puzzled to think what possible attraction this
young man could find in such a mere child—so
plain and awkward-looking too. That he could be
“in love” with her, even in the lowest sense of that
phrase, seemed all but an. impossibility ; and if not
in love, what possible purpose could ho have in
wooing or wanting to marry her?—for I was sims
sarily be in earnest,
as to what course I must pursue, did I walk on be-
side Matilda, who, having quarreled with her sister,
kept close tome. She went chattering on about
was caught by Zillab’s name,
ple enough to suppose that all wooing must neces-
Malf-bewildered with. conjectures,fears and doubts :
some misdoings of Caroline. At last my attention. .