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BY GOULD & EL
* Offices 80 Middle, near Corner ot Exchange ‘Bt.
Cranscript,
TERMS: $150 PER
YEAR,
One Dollar for Eight Months,
. AN INDEPE
NOENT FAMILY JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, NEWS, SG.
VOLUME XVI,
PORTLAND, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1852.
. vt NUMBER 26.
vo >. POETRY.
‘- AUTUMN - THOUGHTS.
by J. G. warraire.
/ © Gone hath the Spring, with all its flowers,
er's pomp and show,
\ And Autumn, in his Ieaftess bowers,
Is waiting for the Winter's snow,
1 Teaid to Earth, s0 cold and gray, wa
‘An emblem of myself thou art:
. “Not so,” the Earth did seem to say,
“For Spring shall warm my frozen heart.
I soothe my wintry sleep with area
_ Of warmer sun and softer
‘And wait to hear the sound of streams
‘And songs of merry birds again.
Bui{thow from whom the Spring hath gone, «
For whom ¢he flowers no longer blow,
Who standest blighted and ‘forlorn,
Like Autumn waiting for the snow:
No hope is thine of sunnier hours,
Thy Winter shall no more depart; _
No Spring revjve thy wasted flowers, +
Nor *ummer warm my frozen heart.»
* SELECT TALE.
LILLY BELL: he
—on—- Len
WHY UNCLE HARRY WAS A BACHELOR.
“What astorra !” ejaculated, old Uncle Harry
Bell, ag he stamped his feet, and brushed the snow
from his overcoat in the hall, and then flung wide
open the door of a’ snug cozy little parlors in his
comfortable farm-house.
Within, a cheerful wood fire was burning, and
the flickering light cast a bright lustro on the old
fashioned mahogony chairs and tables—danced o
on the lofty ceiling, and scattered a shower of gol-
den beams on the sunny,ringlets of tair Lilly Bell,
who had fallen asleep in Uncle Harry's arm-chair.
“Whew! what a storm, I say! Lilly, Lilly, Lil-
ly, where are you? - ‘Asleep, ch ? A fine welcome
this, for a hungry man. As I live, tea ig -not yet
ready.”
“Come, Lilly, wake up—wake up,” and Uncle
Marry rubbed his chilly fingers across Lilly’s face,
which erused her to jump from her chair, and open
her blue eyes with astonishment.
“Why, have I been asleep, and can it be six o'-
clock ” she exclaimed, as the old clock in the hall
chimed forth the hour, “and I declare it is snowing
fast, too! Why, how could I be so careless as to
fatl asleep, when I am in such & harry to finish my
tabovret? and where in the world can Nancy be?”
And away Lilly flew to the kitchen, to summon
the good old honsekeepery whose movements were
somewhat dilatory. +
A few moments sufficed for Lilly to Prepare tea,
and certainly no tea table ever looked more inviting’
than did the one to which Uncle Harry drew his
chair, There was delicious white bread, moulded
by the snowy fingers of Lilly, who prided herself
much upon her skill in cooking. Preserves made
under her inspection, and we do not know how
many niceties which tempted the appetite. Bat we
do know that the tea urn emitted a savory odor,
apparently very agreeable to Uncle Harry, as he
passed his cup to Lilly to be refilled.
Reader, should you chance to be a cold water
man, or maid, we must hambly beg your pardon
for thus unceremoniously introducing to your no-
tice a lover of that fragrant herb, so abhorred by
our Puritanic grandsires and grandmothers—but,
alas! so loved by some of their degenerate descen-
dants we wot of—we must humbly beg your par-
don. Well then, Uncle Harry did love tea, and we
‘will not dieguise the fact.
Now he sat, slowly sipping his tea, closely eye-
ing Lilly the while—a mischievous smile playing
about the corner of his mouth—whose eyes were
bent in an abstracted gaze upon her plate. But it
was evident by her movements that her thoughts
were neither upon her plate or its contents, for Un-
cle is presently burst into a hearty Taugh, ex:
clai
“Thre eLilly, that will do. Pouring cream and
sugar on one’s bread is not eo bad, but when I see
Jarge Jumps of butter floating about like islands, in
your tea, I thiuk it is time to reeall your wander”
.
. .
ing thoughts, Ah, Lilly, how I pity poor Ned Al-
ston. A sorry little wife you will make him one
of these odd days. I declare you will surfeit him
one week, and starve him the next.” And again
Uncle Iarry burst into a hearty laugh, which sent
the blood firing into’ fair Lilly’s face, But then,
“Unele Harry was such a dear old quiz,” as all the
girls said, that Lilly found it impossible to get an-
gry with him, although a very perceptible pout was
on her cherry lips, as he again reiterated, ‘Poor
Ned; I pity him.” +
Lilly could stand it no longer—“* Tdo not believe
Ned wants your pity,” she passionately exclaimed.
“You are too provoking.”
“Ah!” persisted her tormentor, “but that is the
very reason why he onght to have it.. Because he
is running into the fire with his eyes wide open,
does not show that he will rot get burned.”» And
Uncle Marry heaved a deep sigh—a very heart-felt
sigh, one would have thought, had they not caught
a glimpse of the very roguish twinkle ia his deep
blue eye. By-the-way, reader, Uncle Harry had a
blue ey®—a moist eye—and we know of nothing
that so wins us a3 @ charm—tbat binds us as a tie
to the aged—as a warm, sunny beam from the eye
which, though old in years, Letokens that the heart
speaking through its every glance, is yet young
and fresh as in its early spring-time.
“Come now, Lilly dear,” he re aed “acknowl-
edge, like a candid, sensible girl that you are, that
no condition of life can be preferable to that of a
jotty old bachelor ?”
. But Lilly only persisted in’, shaking her ‘pretty
little head with an incredulous air, to the infinite
atausement of her uncle, who sipped his tea with a
smile of good humor on his lips.
“Ah, well,” said he at length, “it always has been
so, and it always will be, that the young will never
take the advice of the old. Now, iT were in Ned's
Pl ace—”
Here he paused, for Lilly's eyes were bent upon
him with an earnest, appealing look, as sha asked :
“What would you do, Uncle Harry ?”
“Well,” he continued, “were I very much be-
witched, perhaps I might—I might—commit mat-
rimony. But then I rather think that I should not
resign myself to such a fate, without I had strug-
gled pretty hard to free myself from my fetters.”
“Ah, then,” said Lilly, langhing, “Iam to ‘con-
clude that you never were bewitched by any pretty
girls else you would have yielded to her snares 7—
Uncle Harry, why were you an old bachelor 2”
Ah, Lilly, you touched a tender chord then, for
Uncle Harry's hand trembled strangely as he lifted
a spoonful of tea to his moath, and an unwonted
moisture sprang to his eye, bat. he only dropped
the spoon, exclarming—
“Why, Lilly, how hot this tea is. I declare I
have sealded me.”
Yes, Lilly had touched a tender chord, and: the
meal ended in silence, for Uncle Harry’s heart was
now filled with memories of the past. .
CHAPTER II. ‘
An hour later Lilly sat at the table, busy with
hor worsted work. Her fingers flew rapidly, and
the flowers rose quickly upon the canvas beneath
her needle. But it waa evident her thoughts were
not there.» A sunny, loving, hoping smile played
upon her lips, like a bright-winged bird among the
flowers, and a tender light gleamed from her dilat-
cd eye, for her heart was away with her absent loy-
er, Ned Allston. .
Jn one month from that eve was Lilly to plight
her faith where she had a long time since given
her love.
The poet hath said, “The course of. true love
never did run smooth,” but for once he erred, for
Lilly was beloved by one well worthy of her. And
hers had ever been a sunny sky—cloudless, serene,
and her life’s barque glided gently onward, where
storms never entered, and wild winds never blew.
Unele Tarry sat leaning back in his arm-chair,
looking very comfortable, with his slippered feet
resting onthe fender, and the ruddy fire-light shin-
ing on his hale and healthy cheeks, and on his sil-
ver hair.
Litly had placed behind him, on rthe table, his
spectacles and the newspapers, but contrary to the
usual custom, the glasses were onused, and the pa-
pers ‘unread. . .
Even his old favorite, the pipe—and Uncle Har-
ry still clung to that old pipe with wonderful te-
nacity, regardless alike of the boasted charms of
“fragrant, Havana,” or luxurious meerschanm—
even that old favorite had lost its wonted power to
soothe, and lay quite unregarded between his fin-
ger and thumb. No graceful wreath of smoke cur-
ling upwards, enveloped his head like a silvery veil
—no sudden nodding of the head betokened that
ever and anon the old man was wandering in the
dream-land, He was wide awake now, and his eye
was fondly bent on the young girl who sat beside
him. And thus he gazed, until a tear started from
its depths, and coursed down his cheek. Brushing
it away, Uncle Harry said—
“Lilly,” and she slightly started as his voice now
broke alike the silence and her reveries, “Lilly, you
asked me a little while ago, why I was a bachelor.
Shall I tell you a story of my early years?” . ~~
Lilly threw aside her work, and seating herself) ~
on a low stool at her uncle's feet, leaned her head
upon his knee, and letting, her hair fall like a rip-
pling shower of gold over her shoulders, while he
gazed tenderly on her, and slowly passed his hand
across his brow, as if 'to dispel some disagreeable
memory that lingered there.. It was thus.
UNCLE HARRY'S STORY.
I was twenty-two years of age when I finished
the junior year of my course in O— University.
With a mind ‘and body like enfecbled by intense
mental application, and long confinement in col-
lege, I gladly accepted the invitgtion of my friend
and classmate, Frank Walters, who insisted on my
spending the long vacation succeeding the summer
term at his house. , It was a lonely village whither
we went, embosomed among lovely hills, and wa-
tered by gently running streams.
- And here, away from books, and the Geaseless
round of college, how swiftly sped the hours in
quict communion with the beauties of natnre. We
passed whole days out gunning in the thick woods,
or fishing in the blae river. By these pursuits, va-
ried by the healthy exercise on a large farm, my
health was completcly established. So the days
sped swiftly onward, until one half of our allotted
vacation had vanished as a dream
An excursion and pie-nie in the mountain wood
had long been talked of among the young people
of the village, and needed only the enterprising
spirit of Frank to forward it, Ie, as chief manag-
er, enlisted me in his service, and so we immedi-
ately busied ourselves with all necessary prepara-
ti
3
ns.
It was on a beautiful morning in the early “au-
tamn time, that a merry party of gay young men,
and rosy-cheeked maidens assembled at the Man-
sion House, from which we were to start for the
grove, about five miles distant.
What merry shouts rang out on the pure morn-
ing air, as one after another stowed themselves in
the hay-racks, trimmed with evergreens and. fresh
oak-leaves, woven for the occasion. And how mer-
ry was the cry, “Here is room enough for just one
more,” when the car was already filled to overflow-
me length all were ready, and oa we went, past
orchards bending beneath golden fruit, and fields
waving with nodding grain, fragrant hedges and
warm uplands, where the white mist hung over-
head like fleecy clonds, until we entered the wood.
Uncle Harry's voice grew yet more distinct as
he proceeded, while Lilly's eyes were turned to his
with eager interest speaking from every glance.
“But why do I linger ?” continued he. It is of
her, of sweet Annie Gray, that I would speak—
“| Lilly, how can I describe to you the. light of her
violet eye, the dimpled cheek, and the waves of
sunny hair? I have. often thonght they - were
strangely like yours. Lily, }
It was then that I first met Annie Gray. | Frank
and myself were both, at first sight, struck by her
exceeding loveliness, and quiet, Indy-like deport-
ment, and we eagerly sought an introduction.
Her manner was calm and subdued—quite differ-
ent from the no’sy group around her; and I half
suspected that.she had thus early known sorrow,
else had her spirits not been checked in their early
out-pourings ; and what [learned of her history
from Carrie Morton—her intimate friend—who
had persuaded her to join our party, confirmed me
in the opinion I had formed. -
. Carrie told me that Annie’s father had been a
thriving merchant in B——, brt had fuiled through
the villiany of his agents, and had now come, with
but a pittance of his fortune, to end his life away
from those who had known him only in bis pros-
perous days. With his wealth bad vanished his
all. He sank under the blow; and the bustling,
calculating merchant had become changed to a
weak, quernlous invalid. Annie, his‘ only child,
bore his capricious petulance with patience and
meekness ; sometimes petted and caressed, as she
had been in her happier days, and anon bearing
his capricious, fretful repining with the meckness
of an an;
“And Ido Lelieve,” said Carrie, who was enthn-
siastic in her friend’s praise ; “I do believe, if ever
there was an angel on earth, Annie Gray is one!”
I smiled as we rejoined the party, from which we
had separated for a moment.
What I heard of Miss Gray only. rendered me
more anxious to seck her acquaintance; and I had
but just engaged her for my partner for the day,
when Frank came where we were standing, and re-
peating the question I had just asked her, was in-
formed that she was already engaged to Mr, Bell.
le cast upon me alook which then I could not
fathom, but whici: rose before my memory in aficr
days like an evil vision, bit his lip with vexatioa,
aud walked away.
Lilly, ‘that was to mea happy, happy aay. “We
rambled apart from the otbers down by the river
banks, and sat upon the mossy knolls béneath the.
magnificent old trees, and I woveher garlands of
many gorgeous flowers, while she sang to me frags
ments of sweet ballads, in a voice more musical
than the birds.
And, there, im those old woods, alone with the
birds and flowers, we became far better acquainted
with each other than do those who meet night af-
ter night in the crowded drawing-room ot the brill-
iant saloon.
In sweet Annie Gray I recognised the embodi-
ment of my boyish dreams—dreams, too, which
the opening years of manhood had not dispelled.—
The ideal gave place to the real.
I saw no more of Frank Walters ‘that day antil
evening, when I songht him after I left the cottage,
of Annie. He sat alone in his room. : I addressed
a few words to him regarding the events of the day,
but he seemed disinclined to converse, only answer-,
ing my questions abruptly; and not knowing to,
what to attribute his unwonted mood, I left him;
for my own apartment.
A word here with regard to Frank. During our
first two years at college we had been room-mates
as wo had been classmates, and a similarity of -
tastes and pursuits created a sort of student sympa-
thy between us; but for the past year we had not
shared the same room, although we were frequent- ,
ly to;
7 eae were both orphans, having control over our
own time, and at that time over our own fortunes,
which were not inconsiderable, , Frank was a youn-
ger child, I an only one.
“But Uncle Harry, you could not have been an
only child—I thought my father was your broth-
er?” said Lilly hastily interrupting him. 1
“Yon shall know all soon, Lilly,” was Uncle
Tlarry’s reply, 28 he continued ;
Frank and I at school were reckoned intimate |
friends, but it was not so in reality, although we
were much together.
Tiis was one of those natures so common among
men: generous to an inferior where they could well
afford to be generous; courteous to their equals .
where it was their policy to be courteous; but woe
unto him who dared to rival him! as I aficrwards *
learned to my bitter sorrow, Ue was affable and
gentlemanly outwardly, but at heart a yillain! Yet
do not think that I knew him thus well then. Ah,
no! far better would it have been for me—far bet-
ter for my idolized Aunie—could we then have read "
his character.': But it was reserved for: after years
to reveal such deeply-dyed yjllainy as none, save &
traitor to his friend, could have been guilty of. Bak.
to my story...
My stay in C—— drew toaclose; but I had im- ~
proved every opportunity to see Annie. Oh, what
long, long walks we had in those decp woods, and
what happy hours I spent at the cottage, and when
we parted it was as plighted lovers. Even Annie's
’
gO
