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Portland
BY GOULD & ELWE:
‘LL,
Offices Middle, near Corner of Exchange St.
AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY JOURNAL
OF LITBRATURE,
TERMS:
One Dollar
$150 PER YEAR.
for Eight Months.
HAWS, BE.
VOLUME XVI.
PORTLAND, SATURDAY, JUNE 5, 1852.
NUMBER 8.
POETRY.
From the Persian.
Once from a cloud a drop of rain
Fell trembling in the sea;
And when she saw the wide-spread main,
Shame veiled her modesty.
“What place in this wide sea have I,
What room is left for me?
Sure it were better that I die,
In this immensity !”
But while her self-abasing fear
Its lowliness contessed,
A shell received and welcomed ber,
And press'd her to its breast.
And nourished there, the drop became
‘A pearl for royal eyes—
Exalted by its lowly shame,
And humbled but to rise.
SELECT TALE,
CELIA. BEVERLY :
OR, POWER OF WOMAN'S INFLUENCE.
BY MRS. ELECTA M. SHELDON,
CHAPTER T.
To.day young Love is privilged to come
‘And tell his fondest wishes in thy ear,
Friends come and ciasp thy hand, and kindly wish
‘Thy future happiness; and all the host
Of those who claim acquaintance, caring not
For thy futurity, with smile avd bow,
Politely give ‘the season’s compliments.’
“Good morning, girls, and a happy New Year!
said Mr. Mitford, as a group of smiling faces ap-
peared in the breakfast room. “And how do you
intend to exercise your privileges this year?” he
asked when the mutual congratulations were over,
and all were scated at the'table; “you know, girls,
this is leap year. Now how many proposals do
you intend to make, and then break fond hearts by
jilting them? Come, now, I will be your ‘father
confessor’ Cousin Ella, I will begin with you.”
“J shall not propose at all—I don't like the
men,” said Ella, poutingly.
“Don’t like the men, you gypsy ; yes you do,
you like me, and your father and brother, and I
don’t know how many more.”
“OQ! Llike my relatives, of course.”
“Yes, and the first we shall know, you will like
some one besides relatives.”
“Well, if I do, I shall wait till after leap-year,”
replied Ella, laughing. :
“Come, Julia,” said Mr. Mitford, turning to his
eldest daughter, “confess if you intend to propose
to George Severne to pledge you in the rosy wine
» to-day as a preliminary.” :
Blushes eloquent mantled Julia’s cheek, as she
murmured some unintelligible reply.
“Mnst we have wine on the table to-day, papa?”
asked Mary, pleadingly. “I have heard so much
- of its evils that I can never touch another drop I'm
sure, nor prescut it to others,” she added in a low-
er cone. . -
“To be sure you must have wine,” replied Mr.
Mitford ; what would half your fashionable friends
think, to be treated to cold water ?”
“Bat we will give them coffee—”
“No, no, that will never do. Don't you know
the bible says—‘Wine maketh glad the heart of,
manj’ and the command is—‘Take a little wine for
thy stomach’s sake,’” .
Mary knew by experience that there was no use
in combating her futher,so she remained silent,
“And to whom do you imtend to propose, my
daughter,” asked Mr. Mitford, ina winning tone,
anxious to drivé the cloud from Mary's brow.
“J will wait and see how much wine they drink
before I propose to any one,” replied she, smiling.
“And you, my dear Celia,” said Mr. Mitford,
turning to the danghter of an esteemed and long
deceased friend, who was spending the winter in
his family, “what will you do; to. whom will you
pow the knee—to whom will be offered ma chere
amie’s heart ?” ~
There is no hope for me, dear Mr. Mitford,”
gaid Celia, smiling; “so I: think I must e’en keep
"my heart to myself.”
- "No hope for you! what does the child mean?
No hope for one who has received offers from half
the marriageable men in town! Please explain,
Miss Humility.” .
“I beg you will excuse me, sir,” replied Celia.
“And leave me to infer that you are either in
love with some one who is engaged, or consider
yourself too good for any of our young men—which
—eh?”
“Ot neither, Mr. Mitford,” said Celia, blushing.
“Neither!” exclaimed her tormentor, rolling up
his eyes in mock wonder ; “what then, pray—what
can I think ?”
The girls were almost covulsed with laughter at
Mr, Mitford’s comical looks, and Celia’s embarrass-
ment, though she joined in their mirth.
“Now, if you will promise not to be angry I will
tell you frankly, said Celia, when the merriment
had somewhat subsided,
“Get angry with such a little minx as you !” said
Mr. Mitford, drawing himself up most pompously.
Celia laughed. .
“Candidly,” said she, “I some time ago resolved
that I would never marry a man who was addicted
to the use of wine, or tobocco, and there is not one
in the whole range of my acquaintance who is free
from both these vices ; so you see there is no chance
for my exercising my ‘Ieap-year’ privileges.” |
“Is the child going ernzy !” exclaimed Mr. Mit-
ford, langhing.
“For my part, I don’t care how much tobacco or
wine a man uses if he can only govern himself,” re-
marked Julia, .
“Iean’t see what harm there isin smoking a
good cigar.” said Mary. :
“And what do you think, my mute little puss,’
said Mr. Mitford, turning to Ella and laying his
hand lovingly on her head. 3
“I think the gentlemen can take care of them-
selves, uncle,” she remarked quietly.
“They will be obliged to entertain themselves if
we linger here much longer,” said Julia, rising from
the table. ‘
Scarcely were the spacious parlors warmed and
allthings in readiness, 'ere troops of callers began
to make their appearance. And, truly, these four
formed a most attractive constellation around which
the satellites uf the other sex loved to revolve.
Very unlike the others was each particular star,
yet cach had her own peculiar charms and fascina-
tions. .
Jatia, the eldest of the group, and the mistress of
the family since her mother’s death, was not beauti
ful, yet there was a noble queenliness in her car-
riage, a lofty dignity in her demeanor that involun-
tarily called forth respect. She was firm in carry-
ing out any principle she thought right, but there
was a certain imperiousness in her manner, which
often repelled those whom she would win.
Mary, the younger sister, was more gentle; her
eye betokened the deep fount of affection in her
heart. She possessed good mental powers, but the
innate strength of her mind had never been called
forth, and she was willing to glide along life’s stream
with the current, .
Ella, the lovely, blue eyed, petted cousin, gentle
and amiable when petted—a spoiled and pouting
child when crossed ; nor was she in. years scarcely
more than achild, “One knows not what she will
be,” was the thought of the beholder when gazing
‘on her sweet face, .
Celia Beverly, who can describe her! Beautfal
yet not yvain~gentle and loving, yet possessing
strength of character in right action—how sweetly
does her life exemplify that purity of principle,
those refining and elevating influences, which are
the peculiar charm of woman. °
While we are describing our young ladies, they
are busy receiving and responding to “the compli-
ments of the season,” and like true Americans as
they are, bestowing food and drink on those who
are neither hungry nor thirsty.
* Mary, with her instinctive dread of wine, stands
at the coffee urn; Celia oceupies a place neat her ;
Julia, as mistress of the house, docs the honors of
the side-board, with a general supervision of all;
and Ella, the fairy, is just where her ladyship pleas-
to be.
About cleven o'clock, a troupe of young men
called, whose presence seemed particularly accept-
2
&
able to the young ladies. George Sevenre was one
of the number; Frank Somers, with his intellect-
ual beauty of countenance, his noble, manly form,
and still more noble soul; the gay young Neville;
the mirth-loving, laughter-provoking Bancroft; and
Henry Lester, and Charles Lucerne, too young to
take upon them life’s sober cares, yet giving prom-
ise of a glorious manhood, welcome everywhere
and the idols of their own respective family circles;
could calls from such a band be other than agree-
able?
“One sip of this
Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight,
Beyond the bliss of dreams !"
exclaimed the gay Neville, as he received a glass
of wine from the fair hand of “the Lady Julia,” as
he called her.
“Yes, and it will make you lean heavily on some
friendly arm before night,” said Bancroft, as he also
accepted a proffered glass.
“Never mind,” replied Neville, langhing, “here's
£8 the health and happiness of the Lady Julia and
her fair companions.”
‘This added sentiment was greeted with peals of
laughter, and the drained glasses ot all the gentle-
men manifested their appreciation of the whole.
“You seem quite alone, Miss Beverly will you
drink a glass of wine with me ?” said Frank Som-
ers, advancing to the window where Celia had seat-
ed herself a moment before, and presenting thé
brimming wine cup.
“Ishall be most happy to drink to your health
and ‘prasperity in Heaven's own beverage,” said
Celia, rising and going to the table as she spoke,
“but really, you must excuse me, I never drink
vine.” : wes
wine, co f :
“Most certainly, and I will most cheerfully pledge
you in pure cold water,” replied Somers, setting
down the wine, and taking the goblet of water
Celia poured for him. \
“Now Celia,” said Charles Lucerne, who stood
near, “you are a sort of cousin, you know, so
please tell me why you won't drink wine, just con
fidentially.”
“This is not the proper time nor place for such
revealings,” said Celia; “but I will tell you some
time—as a warning,” she added, blushing. «
“Well, as a warning, then, or any thing else, 80
you explain this unaccountable fancy,” replied Lu-
cerne, laughing, and the young gentlemen bowed
their adieus.
Other ealls soon drove the thought of Celia
Beverly’s fancies from the minds of all except
Frank Somers. True, he too sipped the “rosy
wine” when presented by the hand of beauty, but
the sad pleading glance of Celia’s eye, as she re-
fased the wine cup, would come up 8o vividly be-
fore him whenever he raised the glass to his lips,
that the wine was only tasted. -
The day passed rapidly and pleasantly with the
Mitford’s; @ constant succesion of calls left no
time for the spirits to flag, and youth is not soon
overcome with fatigue where the mind is interest
ed.
The Lady Julia was Lady Julia still, calm, dig-
nified, with that Aauteur of manner deemed s0 aris-
tocratic, and, consequently, admired even by those
it repels; Mary,” the timid, blushing Mary, often
found herself relieved from embarrassment by the
tact of the gentle Celia, who was calm and com-
posed—though the quick blush was often called to
her cheek by atest of her temperance principles:
yet the gallantry of the gentlemen prevented any
long continued embarrassment.
CHAPTER 11,
“By this the drooping daylight 'gan to fade
And yleld his room to sad succeeding night,
Who, with her sable mantle, ’gan to shade
The face of earth, and ways of living wight,
And high her burning torch ret up in heaven bright,””
“O, Lam so glad it is night !” exclaimed Ella, as
she flung herself on: the sofa after tea, “I hope we
shall not have another call; I am almost tired to
death.”
“Gather yourself up, my dear, and pat on a less
lachrymose phiz,” said Celia, caressingly, as the
door-bell rang again.
“O, yes, Iam all in order.” she replied, spring-
ing up langhing, and shaking back her curls; “I
should think the poor bell would be tired, shouldn't
you?”
“The compliments of the season,” ladies—many
returns of a happy New Year,” said Ilenry Lester,
marching into the parlor, closely followed by
Charles Lucerne, and more leisurely by the rest of
the tronpe. .
> “Pray, be seated gentlemen, happy to see you
are able to get here, ssid Julia, teasingly.
“We are very much fatigued,” coolly remarked
Bancroft, but we have nerved ourselves up by a
desperate effort to do something for our friend
Somers, who has been as one moonstruck all day.”
Somers blushed deeply at this sally; but Lu-
cerne, knowing Celia's sensitive nature, and fear-
ing they might fail to elicit the recital they desired,
dexterously turned the conversation upon the
events of the day for atime. At length, taking a
seat on the sofa beside Celia, he told her plainly
the object of their second call.
“But I cannot tell my story before all these,” re-
monstrated Celia. :
“You said your reason for not drinking wine
would be a warning to me, will it not be equally so
to them ?” asked Lucerne.
“Can you not repeat it to them ?” inquired Celia.
“Not as you can tell it,” replied Lucerne.: “O,
Celia! if you only knew the power in woman's
very tones, you would not hesitate to exert your
influence where there is the possibility of doing
good,” he added with emotion,
“You have conquered,” said Celia; “may my
melancholy story be indeed productive of good.”
“Miss Beverly will favor us with her reasons for
not drinking wine. though her story is a sad one,”
said Lucerne, addressing the company.
All eyes were immediately fixed upon her, and a
breathless silence evinced their anxiety for the nar~
ration. -
Celia struggled a moment with her embarass-
ment, then turning partly toward Lucerne, she
aid — ‘ : '
“I once had a brother Charles, an only, darling
brother,” she murmured in tones so low that her
auditors could scarcely catch the words ; “he was
ten years my senior. I was his pet—his ‘baby sis-
ter,’ as he fondly catled me—and he, he was to me
the personification of all that was good, and noble,
and manly. :
“And now, as I look back through the dim vista
of long. long years, I still feel that my brother
must have been all I then thought him; tall and
commanding in form, with fine classical features,
mind richly endowed and a heart overflowing with
kindly affections—such was my brother, my only
brother, is it very strange I loved him.
How beautiful was Celia at this moment; her
cheeks glowed, her fine eyes were Jit ap with en-
thusiasm, and her voice had grown stronger and
stronger, till its silvery notes rang like harp tones
through the apartment ; she paased, sighed deep-
ly and resumed. .
“Ten years ago to-night, six months after he had
attained his majority and about as long after he
had graduated with the highest honors of Yale,
Charles was brought home intoxicated—perfectly
helpless. . Oh! the horrors of that night!. I
thought my brother was dead, and was almost
frantic with grief. My mother, fearing fatal con-
sequences from my excessive anguish, drew me to
her bosom, and folding her arms around me, whis-
pered, ‘Celia, Charles is not dead, he will revive
by-and-by; he is—oh! can it be!—he is drank,
dead drank!’
“Never can I forget the wail of agony with
which the last words were spoken. My poor heart-
stricken mother fell back in a swoon, and all night
long fainting fits followed in quick succession.
“I was fully roused. How great the change
wrought in a few brief hours! from a thoughtless,
happy child, I became old in mental sufferine—
strong to endure for those I loved. °
“Poor Charles, it was very hard for me to nerve
myself to mect him the next morning. With a
palpitating heart I entered the breakfast room’—
To my joy no one was there but my father; moth-
er was unable to rise. My older sisters were
spending holiday week in a neighboring city, and
Charles, in answer to the servant sent to enquire
for him, said he was ill and wished to be excused.
A sad lonely meal was that. My father scarcely
looked up, and ate but little—while now and then
